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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26631907">The Vanguard</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Arthur0098/pseuds/Arthur0098'>Arthur0098</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>The Last Angel - Proximal Flame</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Aftermath of attempted genocide, Angst, Doing the Battlestar Galactica thing, Eventual Happy Ending, Guerilla Warfare, Homesickness, Infiltration, Time Travel, Tribunes, hiraeth, outclassed and outgunned, righteous fury, time dilation, vengeance</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-09-24</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-02-21</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 07:41:44</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>22</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>190,906</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26631907</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Arthur0098/pseuds/Arthur0098</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>The pitiful remnants of a once-mighty nation that dared to say "no" fled across space from the foe howling for their dead god. Earth and all her colonies were gone, along with the tens of billions who'd called them home. For their refusal to surrender, and the destruction of a legitimate military target, their entire species had been condemned to death. They were so desperate to escape they fled across time itself, just to have a chance at survival.<br/>But something went wrong; and a single battleship, a meager handful of ancient starships, and a million refugees found themselves lost in time, in enemy territory, without a home to go back to.<br/>But impossible odds are the United Earth military's bread and butter. Rear Admiral Nieves Moreno will not go quietly into that good night, and neither will her companions. For as long as their reactors pulse, and their guns aim true, the Vanguard and her crew will protect the human race. They will have their vengeance, and they will reclaim their home.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>20</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Arrival</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>This story was originally posted on the SpaceBattles forum thread, The Long War - snippets and short stories from "The Last Angelverse"<br/>https://forums.spacebattles.com/threads/the-long-war-snippets-and-short-stories-from-the-last-angelverse.821747/</p><p>Based on Proximal Flame's web novel "The Last Angel". https://forums.spacebattles.com/threads/the-last-angel.244209/</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>The black hole was somewhere few people went. It was a binary system with a sun that fed the hole. A few lifeless rocks orbited the star. Naturally, people avoided them in the first place, given their nature, but this one was particularly avoided. A scientific curiosity, but one a little too far from certain regions for it to warrant major investigation. There had been some expeditions, some scans, but for some reason, through some quirk of radiation, sensor glitches, or perhaps other matters within the Compact's control, no one ever seemed to notice the cluster of dots near the accretion disk.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>They'd been there for one thousand, nine hundred and change years, on a deceptively short flyby. They were starships, two parties of them, both of different nations. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>One's designs were boxy, efficient, and threatening. Industrial but with a certain amount of sleekness. They brought to mind a sense of pride, "they may be ugly, but they're ours, and they get the job done." </span>
</p><p>
  <span>They were pursued by the second cluster. Their ships were more like ocean predators, with smooth lines and something that told you they could move very fast very quickly. While more organic and natural. There was almost a sense of the uncanny valley to them. The same sense of unease you get from a squid, or a fungus that made you want to run away and hide behind the most artificial and mechanical mechanism you can find.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>All the ships were huge to organic beings. The largest ran on the order of 3.5 kilometers, and the smallest only about 350 meters. Quite small.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The party of predator ships hunted the first pack with gleeful intent. Column Leader Yitjus knew what would happen when they followed these people into this orbit. They didn't care. Their calculations told them they would be okay. The Compact endures, after all. This despite the hunted party’s larger numbers, and with at least one ship bigger than theirs. Some of the last remnants of the United Earth Confederacy.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"UECNS </span>
  <em>
    <span>Vanguard</span>
  </em>
  <span>" was written on the largest ship’s hull in a virtually dead language. One of the strongest battleships ever fielded by her nearly extinct creators. She was battered from a long flight, and from even longer spent without a proper dockyard. Her main batteries were tired, her missile stockpiles low, and her fuel would run out soon. Relatively speaking.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>To the outside observer, the entire scene was frozen in time, NCOs still screamed orders. They mirrored one another no matter the faction. They seemed still, that moment preserved. Sailors loaded ammunition, conducted repairs, designated targets, stabilized the wounded, and put out fires. But had anyone been able to watch the scene sped up, they would realize these people </span>
  <em>
    <span>were </span>
  </em>
  <span>moving. Very very slowly.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Every once in a while, maybe every few months, a beam of energy would slowly grow from a ship’s batteries. The beam would destroy an enemy drone, a missile, a dumb round. No matter when you picked a moment, the usual appearance of battle looked like a snow sculpture.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Rear Admiral Nieves Moreno, the last of her service, slowly got to her feet. She wore the uniform of a dying nation, the remains all around her, in these few dozen ships. The pitiful remains of a nation that once numbered its </span>
  <em>
    <span>worlds </span>
  </em>
  <span>in the hundreds. She raised a hand to point at the battleship's commander, Captain Milena Mrowka, her mouth slowly opening to bark an order.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>A fight of several hours took place over hundreds of years. Time dilation is amazing, isn't it?</span>
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The Compact force, for the first time in a battle with a human convoy, had been outnumbered and outgunned. When they’d shocked in-system, the flagship’s commander, a group leader prime, brought these concerns to Column Leader Yitjus.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Sir, we should go back for reinforcements. That’s one of their biggest warships out there.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Yitjus burst out in laughter, “‘Warship’? That’s a bath toy!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The group leader prime’s eyes deliberately did not go wide, “Column leader--”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Group leader prime, they’re </span>
  <em>
    <span>humans</span>
  </em>
  <span>. What can they do?” He gestured to the displays, “A bath toy, some insects, and a bunch of cattle carts. At least we’ll get a fight out of this one! We still have superior weapons range, and we will no doubt inflict casualties on them even if they destroy us.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Yitjus was new to the conflict. He’d missed all the action of the war, but heard talk of the savagery of these humans. All he ever saw were the remains of their colonies. Very threatening. He’d once overseen the destruction of one of their poorly-hidden asteroid colonies. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Surely </span>
  </em>
  <span>a target worthy of his stature. The savages </span>
  <em>
    <span>had</span>
  </em>
  <span> killed a Triarch, that was a crime of course, but he’d never gotten a fight out of them. He almost couldn’t believe these were the same people who had destroyed a Chariot. Why couldn’t he get a real fight? He wasn't just being aggressive, he </span>
  <em>
    <span>wanted</span>
  </em>
  <span> to engage them.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>His crews, many veterans of the war, were tired. They were the grunts, the average soldiers who had been through it all. They’d lost countless friends, but could now finally see the end on the horizon. They still had one more battle to fight, however. And the column leader didn’t budge. His crew looked at him nervously, or as much as they could. The group leader spoke urgently, but calmly, “Column Leader, they’re headed right for the black hole--”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I know that, group leader prime. Tell navigation to calculate a course to avoid the worst of the time dilation. Even if these savages do destroy us, we’ll at least slow the enemy down enough for another fleet to come in and face them.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The column leader eyed his flagship’s commander, a weary officer with old scars on her face, “You don’t think </span>
  <em>
    <span>they</span>
  </em>
  <span> could destroy </span>
  <em>
    <span>us</span>
  </em>
  <span>, do you?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Of...of course not, column leader."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Yitjus leaned back in his seat thoughtfully. “Launch messenger drones. Let’s be safe and make </span>
  <em>
    <span>sure</span>
  </em>
  <span> someone comes.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The group leader knew it was possible. But she couldn’t disobey. They </span>
  <em>
    <span>had</span>
  </em>
  <span> to slow them down.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Yitjus stood up, "The last human ‘battleship’,” he mocked, with the Tribune equivalent to air quotes, to the mild amusement and increased nervousness of his crew, ”won’t this be fun?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Slow them down. That was what the plan had been. Except no one knew they were there. No one knew because no one had left the system. Not a drone or a ship. The humans knew their safety was in numbers and kept everyone together. Column Leader Yitjus believed it wouldn’t be a challenge, but he wasn’t entirely ignorant. He’d kept his ships together to hopefully kill </span>
  <em>
    <span>Vanguard</span>
  </em>
  <span>. None left to carry a message themselves.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It had been an arrogant decision.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>No messenger drone had been able to escape the human hunter-killers, and few messengers could even survive this close to the black hole. No messages had ever gotten out before the two groups fell into the black hole's influence. For the first time, the human flotilla had had the smallest amount of luck.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was almost humorous how the universe spat in the face of that. Their salvation was nearly their doom, on the precipice between life and spaghettification.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>No one had found them in centuries. No one even bothered to look for this lost little Compact force. They hadn’t heard of any more humans, and who’s more likely to win? That arrogance combined with a clerical error here or there meant that no one found any trace of the flotilla because they looked in the wrong place. And this was on the tail-end of the human hunt. Everyone was tired of it. The ships hadn’t reported in, something must’ve gotten them, but they </span>
  <em>
    <span>probably</span>
  </em>
  <span> accomplished their mission.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Another clerical error here and there. Someone forgot to file a report, someone was too lazy to do so, so many coincidences... Had anyone bothered to look, they would have realized things were about to change.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>There were a few additional dots further out from the main groups, spent missiles, ammunition...and a few messenger drones, with the blue of the UEC or the colors of the Compact. At least two were near the edge of the disk. Time was faster for them than for the crews, and still so slow. But no one realized time was speeding back up for everyone else as well. They were closer to the end of their orbit. Captain Mrowka had blinked in one week instead of two, as she turned to look at the admiral. How recently? Hard to say.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The messenger drones still moved. They crossed the distance to “normal” reality faster and faster. The Compact drone was faster than the human one. It reached normal space, barely escaped a human hunter-killer, and started to squawk. "General distress; elements of execution force trapped on the edge of a black hole. Requesting immediate assistance. All available Compact units respond. General distress..."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The human drone didn't squawk, at least not in such a manner. It instead pulsed what its designers hoped to be a discrete signal, disguised against the background radiation of the universe, only to be found if you knew what to look for. It was for any remaining humans to find if they survived the extermination forces. And if they didn't, someone may find it, and ensure justice. It was a unique probe, designed to carry human knowledge, as well as DNA samples, digitized in case it was there for a while, and even MRI scans, on the off chance someone might find a way to survive into the future. It was much more desperate than the Voyager golden record.</span>
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>
  <span>That was a few years ago.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The Compact courier had escaped the hunter-killer, but not unscathed. It only managed one jump before it broke down. It drifted weakly in the light of a nearby sun about a system away, squawking every time its solar panels were exposed. “General distress...general distress…”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>A salvage crew in the region finally heard it. A partial message, a distress call from a ship so old it had but a name in the database. “Looks like an old scout cruiser,” said the older Tribune male, Udsul, the ship’s owner, over the shoulder of one of his employees, “I’ve only seen those in museums!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Think we can get anything from it?” the client race female asked.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Ah, it’s probably been destroyed...but I don’t think anyone’s been in this area for years. There might be something out there. I know about a private collector who’s been trying to restore one of these. Maybe he’ll pay good money for parts.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Now, time finally had its fun. The black hole finally released its prisoners. The </span>
  <em>
    <span>Vanguard </span>
  </em>
  <span>emerged into normal space. She was followed by a handful of frigates, destroyers, a light cruiser, and a heavy cruiser. They shepherded a few dozen battered freighters, transports, industrial ships, and other merchant and civilian vessels. All surged ahead of the </span>
  <em>
    <span>Vanguard</span>
  </em>
  <span>, while she twirled about and burned hard.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Commence firing!” Captain Mrowka barked.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Well within range of the enemy’s guns, </span>
  <em>
    <span>Vanguard </span>
  </em>
  <span>fired off some of her remaining large missiles, her main batteries, and her spinal mount. Unlike her smaller brethren, she could take a hit or two, even against this foe. She just needed to get close enough.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The enemy’s squadron of three cruisers and division of escorts came into their time zone. Column Leader Yitjus died before he even learned how much time had passed.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>A ragged cheer went up on the </span>
  <em>
    <span>Vanguard</span>
  </em>
  <span>'s bridge. "Enemy targets destroyed." Captain Mrowka said, with a nod to the admiral.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"We're out of the black hole's sphere of influence," reported a </span>
  <em>
    <span>Vanguard</span>
  </em>
  <span> bridge rating, "All ships accounted for."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"</span>
  <em>
    <span>The Endurance</span>
  </em>
  <span> is telling us to standby." A communications operator said, "still awaiting their conclusions." The humans knew the stars were out of place. They had hoped the black hole could buy them a few years until the enemy forgot about them.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Lay in a course to the third planet and get the fleet into medium orbit," Moreno ordered, "I want </span>
  <em>
    <span>Suffren</span>
  </em>
  <span> in high orbit. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Canberra</span>
  </em>
  <span> is to head for the Compact wrecks. We don’t know what they had, any of it could be useful. Set hunter-killers to destroy any messengers and black boxes. Tell our escorts to keep their eyes peeled."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She exchanged looks with Captain Mrowka. The captain's gaze wasn't intense, but Moreno knew there was something to it. Mrowka reported, "We've taken a beating, but </span>
  <em>
    <span>Vanguard's</span>
  </em>
  <span> still in shape."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Good. She ought to last us a while yet." Moreno noticed an odd look from the captain out of the corner of her eye but didn’t comment. So far things were going about as well as could be expected. Especially with their casualties.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>They kept to their stations, as they were trained. The finest, the last, the best crews in the UEC Navy had standards to keep. It didn’t matter what happened. The flotilla scurried their way to the little rock bathed in radiation, not a port, merely a rock to tether themselves to for a moment.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The last escorts of the UEC Navy did their jobs and acted as pickets. The last light cruiser satisfied the enemy ships weren’t about to explode, sent shuttles, and probes to retrieve salvage. The last heavy cruiser and the last battleship hovered around their charges, the remnants of the Confederate merchant navy.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Moreno found the sight comforting. Alone, </span>
  <em>
    <span>Vanguard</span>
  </em>
  <span> could have maneuvered a lot faster and wouldn't have to play escort mission to the civilians. But she also would've been </span>
  <em>
    <span>alone</span>
  </em>
  <span>. For how ragged they were, the sheer numbers of ships were a little encouraging. Kind of a sense of home, a sense of a group, a sense that they weren’t all alone out here. Even if they were the last, they weren't </span>
  <em>
    <span>alone</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>After a little over an hour spent dealing with one problem after the next, they received a hail. A comms operator called out, “Admiral? </span>
  <em>
    <span>Endurance</span>
  </em>
  <span> Actual is requesting to speak to you. He says it’s urgent.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Moreno nodded, “Understood. I’ll take it.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You’re on, admiral.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Moreno sat back, “</span>
  <em>
    <span>Endurance</span>
  </em>
  <span> Actual, This is </span>
  <em>
    <span>Vanguard</span>
  </em>
  <span> Actual. Do you have a report for me?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Endurance </span>
  </em>
  <span>was the last UEC Science Fleet starship they had left. An explorer ship commanded by one Commander Cassius Hawkins. It was vital to their survival and figuring out what exactly happened. “</span>
  <em>
    <span>Admiral…</span>
  </em>
  <span>” Hawkins said, his voice wavered slightly, even over the radio. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Moreno’s heart sank.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The commander cleared his throat, “</span>
  <em>
    <span>Admiral...our calculations were off.</span>
  </em>
  <span>” His voice shot back to a level point. He maintained radio discipline as spacers did. One could have thought he was reading the phone book aloud.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“How far off?” Moreno asked.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“...</span>
  <em>
    <span>on the order of a few thousand years</span>
  </em>
  <span>.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The bridge went silent. The hum of the engines and the sound of consoles was deafening. The admiral reached up to her headset, “Copy that, commander.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The bridge went back to work immediately, ignoring the despair that threatened to consume them. Moreno leaned back in her seat, rubbed the bridge of her nose, and listened to the commander lay out his evidence.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Almost two thousand years…</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She slowly turned to look at Mrowka. There was that look again.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“We need a conference of all captains and civilian reps,” Moreno said, “everyone else is to continue previously ordered.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>They were UEC Naval officers. They had to stay strong for the crew, and they had to do their jobs.</span>
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>
  <strong>
    <span>XXXXX</span>
  </strong>
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The UECNS </span>
  <em>
    <span>Hoel</span>
  </em>
  <span>, one of their frigates, called in to report a warp signature on the edge of the system. She stopped just long enough to drop a pair of hunter-killers. then flipped sunward and ran like a rabbit. “</span>
  <em>
    <span>Unknown drive signature. Doesn’t match any known Compact signals.</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>With 2,000 years passed, that might not mean anything. After several minutes of going through the motions, identifying the contact, assessing the threat, the frigate’s comm department reported they were being hailed.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>They didn't answer immediately. The other ship didn’t </span>
  <em>
    <span>appear</span>
  </em>
  <span> Compact, and that made them hesitate. In their long flight from Earth, the convoy had discovered a small number of other kinds of alien life. Non-hostile life. None that could challenge them, and none who could help them. But non-hostile. It made the difference between a finger in the trigger guard and pulling the trigger.</span>
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The salvage team was angry. They tried to communicate with this strange flotilla to insist this was their salvage. But then they realized the strange ships </span>
  <em>
    <span>were </span>
  </em>
  <span>the salvage. They didn't recognize them, didn't even know their language. But that was no problem. The computer translated everything automatically, they didn't care what these people spoke so long as they could communicate.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“...</span>
  <em>
    <span>this is the battleship </span>
  </em>
  <span>Vanguard.</span>
  <em>
    <span> Identify yourself immediately or we will fire on you.</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Udsul widened his eyes, “What the--?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“That’s a warship out there!” his scope operator, Erusal, yelped, as the battered array finally worked, “There’s a bunch of them!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Ah-- uh--” Udsul garbled for a second, “Are they feds? Maybe this is some secret operation--”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Uh…” the operator checked, and beat her console again, “No, they’re not Space Force...They’re alien. They look like antiques...but they’ve still got some pretty big guns!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“We gotta get outta here.” his executive officer hissed, “Those are </span>
  <em>
    <span>alien</span>
  </em>
  <span> ships!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Are you crazy? They’re going to run us down if we do!” Udsul snapped.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Udsul stepped over to communications, “Tell them we’re a salvage ship, and we mean no harm. We’ll surrender if they want. Ask them who they are, too.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>
  <span>On the </span>
  <em>
    <span>Vanguard</span>
  </em>
  <span>, a transmission was received. “</span>
  <em>
    <span>This is the salvage ship </span>
  </em>
  <span>Bulk Discount</span>
  <em>
    <span> to unknown starship. We’re a salvage ship, we’re unarmed. Please don’t fire upon us. We surrender. Repeat, we surrender. Who are you?</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The operator looked over at Mrowka, “Captain, the message is in Compact Standard.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Mrowka's gaze narrowed. She looked at Moreno, "orders, ma'am? I'd like to blow them out of the sky."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Moreno shook her head. "Negative. Tell them to heave to and prepare to be boarded. Order the </span>
  <em>
    <span>Hoel</span>
  </em>
  <span> to intercept."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They needed intel. The salvagers didn't have a military vessel. Even the antique </span>
  <em>
    <span>Vanguard</span>
  </em>
  <span> could run them down.</span>
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"There are hundreds of thousands of life signs!" The scopes operator reported, "not just on the battleship!"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Udsul nodded, and smoothed out his uniform, "understood." They seemed like reasonable people. He'd meet them, calmly and logically communicate with them, and hopefully, get everything sorted out. He glanced at his second in command, named Nuzer, a member of an avian client race, “Make sure no one fights them. We don’t know what can set these people off.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Understood,” the other man replied reluctantly, “Are you going down alone?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yes. We don’t want to provoke them. Keep everyone at their stations, and make sure no one fights them.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Nuzer sighed, “I heard you the first time.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I know our crew. Make </span>
  <em>
    <span>sure</span>
  </em>
  <span>.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Nuzer nodded reluctantly, “I hope this doesn’t get us killed.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Udsul nodded back. “Yeah. Let’s hope they’re reasonable.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Maybe he'd get some reward for first contact. He </span>
  <em>
    <span>was</span>
  </em>
  <span> the only member of a ruling race on the ship after all, and a Tribune at that. He was a perfect choice, even if he wasn’t a government official. It just made sense. He made his way through the ship to the cargo bay, where the docking port lay. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The alien frigate came closer and closer. At a certain range, it stopped relative and deployed a shuttle. They were a bit paranoid. What was the salvage party going to do? Blow up the ship out of spite? Udsul was too civilized for that.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The shuttle came alongside, and still maintained its distance. Figures in spacesuits emerged and approached the docking umbilical. Paranoid people indeed.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The hatch opened and the Tribune held his hands spread. Nearly a dozen creatures quickly entered the compartment, all armed with rifles.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“UEC Marines! Don’t move! UEC Marines!” it was in Compact Standard, obviously through some sort of translator.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The aliens wore blue pressure suits of some kind. They were heavily armored, with vests and webbing for equipment, and the other accouterments typical of Marines. Their visors were thin slits that made fearsome and faceless soldiers. Their armor shimmered in the light as they moved, turning from blue to a sort of grey to match the bulkhead behind them. Adaptive camouflage systems.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The instant the lead one caught sight of Udsul was something that would embed itself in his memory forever.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"</span>
  <em>
    <span>Get on the ground!</span>
  </em>
  <span>" The being screamed over their radio. They raised their rifle and fixed their sights directly in the center of his eyes. They looked like they were about to pull the trigger, and like they desperately</span>
  <em>
    
  </em>
  <span>wanted to.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>All thoughts of a calm discourse fled Udsul's mind, and he froze. The soldier was ready to </span>
  <em>
    <span>murder </span>
  </em>
  <span>him.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"</span>
  <em>
    <span>Get on the</span>
  </em>
  <span> fucking</span>
  <em>
    <span> ground!</span>
  </em>
  <span>"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He didn’t know what to do. Slowly he crouched. “I...I respectfully request--”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The soldier stalked forward, “Lie down flat on the ground with your hands spread, you stupid </span>
  <em>
    <span>mutt</span>
  </em>
  <span>!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Udsul nodded and went down rapidly.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Keep an eye on him! Scan him for explosives but don’t touch him!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The other soldiers scattered about to storm the ship, while no less than four soldiers remained to guard him. None tried to hit him. That was odd, considering how angry they were.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He tried to lift his head, and the first soldier shouted, “</span>
  <em>
    <span>Don’t </span>
  </em>
  <span>move</span>
  <em>
    <span>, puppy!</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Udsul nodded again and put his head back down.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The salvage captain could hear them moving about the ship, its thin walls barely masked the shouts. There were no shots fired, but there was a fair amount of scuffling.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Don’t fight 'em!” he shouted, as he tried not to move, “Don’t get yourselves hurt!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Shut up, puppy!” the angry one snarled.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’m just--”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Is he clear of explosives?” the soldier asked another. Udsul couldn’t see anything.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, looks like it.” another Marine replied.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Good.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The Marine kicked Udsul in the gut, “</span>
  <em>
    <span>Shut the fuck up you fucking </span>
  </em>
  <span>mutt</span>
  <em>
    <span>!</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Udsul curled up into a ball. It was probably wise to listen.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The alien shuttle docked, and Udsul heard them bring his crew through to it.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What are you doing to Udsul?” Nuzer demanded.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Quiet! Bring them to the shuttle.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Udsul!” his second-in-command was dragged away.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What do we do with the puppy, Sergeant?” the angriest Marine asked, “Shoot him, right?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Udsul’s eyes went wide.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The sergeant growled, “Corporal, don’t you dare. I don’t want any ‘accidents’, you hear me?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Say he fell down a flight of stairs…”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I don’t want </span>
  <em>
    <span>anything </span>
  </em>
  <span>to happen. Or you can explain what happened to the admiral. Pat him down, then take him to the shuttle, but keep him separate from the other prisoners.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Udsul was cuffed and hauled to his feet. There were more aliens around this time, moving to and fro. They replaced his crew at their stations. He couldn’t read any of their expressions, of course, their helmets were sealed. It was eerie.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There were now five soldiers, including one with three chevrons on their collar.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“No sudden moves, puppy,” the creature said, from his voice, he was the sergeant.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Udsul nodded, then did it again slowly. He trembled as the corporal patted his pockets. At the feeling, the corporal </span>
  <em>
    <span>laughed</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The salvager had heard about what savage races could do. He also remembered movies about this sort of thing, what even the Compact soldiers on Vara Tal were driven to by the insurgency. Drugs, torture of prisoners, and abuse of the natives. And trophy hunting.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The corporal moved methodically and pulled out anything they could find. It was a bit like a police pat-down, which gave him some hope.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“PDA, some junk, a knife…”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He froze when the corporal found his wallet. He twitched to try and do </span>
  <em>
    <span>something</span>
  </em>
  <span>, but the guns aimed at him made him stop again.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Oh, what’s this?” The corporal had a smirk to their voice, “Aw, look, he’s got photos--!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Hey, hey!” the sergeant snapped. He snatched the wallet out of the corporal’s hand and shoved it back in Udsul’s pocket.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“He’s a fucking </span>
  <em>
    <span>dog</span>
  </em>
  <span>, sergeant--!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The sergeant tapped the corporal’s chestplate hard with a finger, “You know what the lieutenant said! You know what the </span>
  <em>
    <span>admiral</span>
  </em>
  <span> said!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Sergeant--!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Lock it down Corporal, that’s an </span>
  <em>
    <span>order</span>
  </em>
  <span>!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The sergeant’s helmet turned to the others, “No weapons. Get him moving toward the shuttle.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Udsul nodded, “Yes sir.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>No talking.</span>
  </em>
  <span>” the sergeant growled.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“We don’t want any of your Compact bullshit.” the angry corporal snapped.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Udsul’s mouth snapped closed, and he nodded.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Good</span>
  </em>
  <span> dog.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He wondered what that term meant. And who these aliens were.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The corporal hit him in the back, “Get moving!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Why did they speak Compact Standard, or at least have it in their computer databanks? They insisted on keeping his crew alive, but why? They weren’t doing this to the others, why him?</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He was brought aboard the shuttle and was forced to stoop in the low ceiling. There was no small amount of “encouragement” from the soldiers, and they restrained themselves from doing much worse. What did they have against </span>
  <em>
    <span>him</span>
  </em>
  <span>?</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He was pulled down in an uncomfortable seat designed for a smaller being, his cuffs attached to a bar above his head.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He avoided eye contact, but at the sound of a hatch, he looked up to see one of the beings in a more conventional blue-on-black spacesuit emerge from the cockpit to speak with the sergeant.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It was a flight suit instead of battle armor. There was no adaptive camouflage. Their helmet had a broad faceplate instead of slits. They had two eyes, eyebrows, a flat face, dark skin, and softer hair than a Tribune.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Udsul’s eyes widened. They were </span>
  <em>
    <span>Broken</span>
  </em>
  <span>!</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The Broken noticed him, and Udsul’s eyes went back to the floor. Erusal said there were hundreds of thousands of life signs. All the same species. Hundreds of thousands of Broken? Impossible. There weren’t that many out of their star system. And here they were.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Udsul slowly looked up at the sergeant, “Excuse me…”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The sergeant turned toward him, and Udsul could sense intense hostility even through the opaque visor. They were Broken. Were these their ships? He had no idea. “E-Excuse me…”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The Sergeant's gaze didn't waver. Udsul had never been afraid of any client race. That he would admit. And this one had him trembling like a child! The rest of the Broken in the compartment stopped to watch the scene.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“...I’m the owner of </span>
  <em>
    <span>Bulk Discount</span>
  </em>
  <span>. C-could I speak to --?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The sergeant crossed his arms.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Udsul scrunched up a bit and immediately bowed his head. And laughter filled the ship.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The </span>
  <em>
    <span>Broken </span>
  </em>
  <span>were </span>
  <em>
    <span>laughing</span>
  </em>
  <span> at him!</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The angry corporal stepped forward, and patted him on the head, “Good dog! There’s a good boy! We’ll teach you something yet!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The Broken laughed again, and Udsul scrunched down even further.</span>
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>
  <strong>
    <span>XXXXX</span>
  </strong>
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Nuzer didn’t understand what was happening. The Broken interrogator who sat in front of him was cold and professional. She looked him directly in the eyes, without fear, only breaking her gaze to write on her PDA.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He was a member of a client race, not a Tribune, but this was still extremely unusual for a Broken. She held herself proudly, there was no sense of submissiveness.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I demand to know what’s going on,” Nuzer said, “We’re a salvage crew, we haven’t done anything! Where’s Udsul?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“He’s fine. Answer our questions and you’ll all stay that way,” she said.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I--”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“State your identity for this meeting,” she said calmly.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Now look--”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“State your identity.” She repeated.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Nuzer Norgan, Compact citizen, second in command aboard the </span>
  <em>
    <span>Bulk Discount</span>
  </em>
  <span>. And you?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Have you ever been a member of the Compact Space Force?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“No. Who are you people?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Are you a member of a Compact client or ruling race?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Client. What do you think?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>What’s your position on your ship’s crew?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Second in command. I said that already.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The interrogation went on in this manner for some time, uneven questions that followed a few odd themes. They centered around the operation of the ship, the space force, the local area of space, and strange history questions.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>At one point she asked, “What do you know about humanity?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Nuzer grew impatient, “What? You mean Broken?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Broken? What does that mean?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Nuzer chuckled a little, confused, “Uh...that’s you. You’re Broken.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The interrogator tilted her head, “Excuse me?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Broken. It means human, right?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I wouldn’t know. Where did that word come from?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Nuzer shrugged, “I dunno. That’s what you people have always been called.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The interrogator nodded strangely, “What do you know about Rally?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Um...it’s where you came from?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The interrogator’s gaze didn’t shift, “What do you know about Rally?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“All humans come from there.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The interrogator tapped her PDA.</span>
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>
  <span>After a long session, Nuzer was brought back to the brig with the rest of the crew. They were crammed into two large cells, perhaps a dozen crewmembers in each one. One of the Marines pushed Nuzer inside, knocked him to the floor, then pulled the door shut.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Seshol, their amphibian chief engineer, and another crew member helped him up, “Nuzer, you alright?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, I’m fine. Did they take anyone else?” Nuzer asked.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Udsul’s still missing, and they took two of my people with space force experience,” Seshol grimaced.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Nuzer huffed, “What is going on here?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“These Broken just don't behave!” Erusal exclaimed.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Badly behaved? One of them </span>
  <em>
    <span>hit</span>
  </em>
  <span> me!” an engineer said.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I thought Broken were supposed to be respectful!” Seshol grumbled, “I’ve never seen an </span>
  <em>
    <span>assertive</span>
  </em>
  <span> Broken!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“They must be some kind of Unbound clan.” someone suggested.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“That doesn’t make sense. Those aren’t Compact ships,” Erusal said, “Where’d they get them? And how did so many of them get off their colony? There’s only a few billion of them! There were hundreds of thousands of them on my scopes, and those were just the ones I could detect!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Xudar, head of the crew department, crossed both sets of arms, “Maybe they’re another group of them, then. More refugees from their homeworld, like that flotilla that crashed on Rally?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“That’s impossible, even space force ships can’t manage that long,” Seshol said, “And Broken? Of course not!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Where do you think they got this ship then?” someone snarled.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Maybe they’re </span>
  <em>
    <span>wild </span>
  </em>
  <span>Broken,” Xudar suggested. The crowd turned to look at him.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Seshol laughed, loudly, “Oh really? That’s ridiculous. Even if they were wild Broken, they must’ve stolen them from someone else. These ships are too well-made to be theirs. By the pits below, I bet those fed ships tried to rescue these morons from the black hole and screwed up. Since when did humans ever have </span>
  <em>
    <span>warships</span>
  </em>
  <span>?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Well, they do.“ Nuzer said. He looked at Erusal, “Do you remember anything about the wreckage of that squadron?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Erusal shrugged, “Nothing reliable. The scopes were acting up…”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What was your instinct?” Nuzer asked, on a hunch.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Erusal shrugged again, the eyes of the crew on her. “Well...I could be wrong, but they could have been destroyed by weapons fire.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You think </span>
  <em>
    <span>they</span>
  </em>
  <span> could kill space force ships?” Seshol demanded, “Humans could barely make shock drives. </span>
  <em>
    <span>If </span>
  </em>
  <span>these were their ships, which is insane, do you think they could destroy even antiques like those? They had </span>
  <em>
    <span>one</span>
  </em>
  <span> primitive planet with a low grasp of engineering for building starships. They’re stolen, and they’re not all Broken.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“But they're not using Compact ships, how could they be an Unbound clan? And if they were wild, how could they steal them? I thought they were all alone in their system...” Erusal scratched her head, “Well, I mean...I’m not up to date on my human history…”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>I </span>
  </em>
  <span>am. I served on a ship with the filthy things.” Seshol snarled, “I know all about these little rats. Who cares where they stole them from? They’re criminals, who may or may not have killed some old space force ships, of course, they’re not all Broken, they’re probably just a minority of whatever species operate this thing...” He appeared to be coming to a decision, “...and I’m tired of sitting around!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Seshol!” Nuzer cried, “The captain--!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Udsul can go jump out an airlock! He doesn’t have my paycheck anymore!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The engineer was one of the ones Udsul was worried about. He strode to the door and pounded on it, “Hey! Hey, you stupid Broken! Get over here!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>There was no answer. "</span>
  <em>
    <span>Hey! Guard!</span>
  </em>
  <span>"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Seshol, come on…!"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>They heard footsteps.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>A human Marine appeared outside the door. She wore a vest, a sidearm, a cloth cap, and a headset. They twirled a few small chains around, one end of each linked to a battered metal tag, each attached to a carabiner in her hand. The headset translated whatever she spoke into Compact Standard, "what is it?"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Seshol huffed, "finally! I don't know what game you Broken are playing, but I'm ending it. I demand to speak to your commander immediately!"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Really."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Yes really! Look little one, we're all Compact citizens here. This has gone on far enough. We're reasonable people, just bring us to your commander and we'll get everything sorted out. What are you people, some unbound clan...?"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The Marine looked at the chains. She opened her hand and revealed a dozen more battered metal tags linked to it. She flicked from one to the next idly.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"...What are those?" Seshol asked.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She looked up at him, "Hm? Oh, did you ever collect things when you were a kid?"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Uh…"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"I did. Still do."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She twirled the tags again, "it's a fun hobby of mine."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Seshol's face changed color. More than a score of Janissary tags were linked to the carabiner.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"I pick one up every time I get a kill. Or try to at least. You know it's pretty darned hard to get a little metal tag when a hull breach pulls your target out? This isn’t even most of them."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She eyed the engineer, and her eyes flicked down to his arm, "...say, you're not too attached to that watch of yours, are you?"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Seshol held his race's equivalent of a wrist and pulled it back. “I--”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The Marine looked around, “Anyway...sorry, got distracted! What’d you want again, asshole?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Seshol backed away, still holding his wrist. “I-- you little Broken! You murderer! You’re going to pay for that!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The Marine laughed, “Bigger bugs than you have tried. But who’s the one in the cell?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Seshol turned to look at the others, then back at the Broken, “You--! You--!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He slammed against the door, reached out for the Marine, then pounded against the door in impotent rage. “You murderous bastard! You little </span>
  <em>
    <span>Broken</span>
  </em>
  <span>! I’m going to kill you!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The Marine laughed wickedly, and waved her hand near her head, waggling her fingers, “Aw, cute little frog! I should put you in a terrarium! I had a toad like you once!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Nuzer stepped up to try to pull Seshol back, as the Marine kept laughing, “Seshol, come on, calm down!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Nuzer, that bastard’s a </span>
  <em>
    <span>murderer</span>
  </em>
  <span>! She’s a Broken </span>
  <em>
    <span>murderer!</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I know, I know, just calm down--!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The Marine’s laughter trailed off, “Hey, little frog, one thing. What the hell does ‘broken’ mean?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Seshol broke free, and slammed against the door again, “It’s </span>
  <em>
    <span>you</span>
  </em>
  <span>, you little murderer! Someday a Janissary is going to come and find you and tear that keychain right out of your little claws!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The Marine furrowed her brow, then laughed again, “They’re welcome to try.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She walked off, whistling loudly as the engineer’s cries of “murderer, murderer!” followed her.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Nuzer and two more crewmembers managed to get Seshol back, but the avian found himself watching the Marine as she disappeared. “What kind of Broken </span>
  <em>
    <span>are </span>
  </em>
  <span>these?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>
  <strong>
    <span>XXXXX</span>
  </strong>
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Captain Mrowka frowned at the security footage. “According to my people, this was the fourth guard that had to be taken off duty in the past couple of days because of incidents like this.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>As she spoke, Mrowka slowly turned to look at a woman who stood beside her in Marine fatigues, with a colonel’s insignia on her collar. “We’ve been having discipline problems all over the fleet, but this is more than the expected amount. I’d like to hear your side of it, colonel.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Colonel Holland spread her hands, “There’s no side to it, Mrowka. I’m with you on this, but I’ve been having a </span>
  <em>
    <span>lot</span>
  </em>
  <span> of discipline problems. I’ve got leathernecks in the brig for fights, arguments, and disputes, I’ve got people in sickbay for injuries while keeping the peace in the fleet, more under suicide watch, even more in the morgue…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She coughed, “And for this alone? You're right. I’ve got three jarheads cooling off in the brig from just getting them over here, and we had to take four more guards off duty in the last two days. No actual violence yet, but the prisoners have a lot of bruises from more than a few shoves.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Holland gestured at the footage, “She’s not the first to do that sort of thing. According to her squad leader, she’s a little odd in the head. She tends to make people nervous sometimes. The other guards pulled her in immediately after that incident. But they also had a man who lost his husband and kids at Terra Nova do something similar, and you can guess what happened with the other two.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Mrowka stood with her arms crossed. “Holland, we need them for intel. And the admiral won’t be happy if anyone dies. This has to stop. Are you saying you can’t control your people?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Holland shook her head, “No. What I’m saying is our people are hurting. We’ve been trying to deal with it, but it’s hard. I don’t know who we’re guarding them against, keeping them in or keeping your squids out. This is half the reason they were transferred to </span>
  <em>
    <span>Vanguard</span>
  </em>
  <span>, right?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Colonel Phoenix Holland was the commander of </span>
  <em>
    <span>Vanguard</span>
  </em>
  <span>’s original Marine complement, a reinforced Marine Expeditionary Unit. The ship was capable of carrying an entire Marine regiment, but they’d suffered critical personnel shortages before Earth’s fall. After though, they now carried their maximum load of troops, remnants of other Marine and Confederate Army units, anyone they could find was crammed into the bulkheads so the civilian ships could carry more people.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>They’d rescued stragglers and deep infiltration units; insurgents, commandos... any surviving ground forces they could reach that the Compact missed in their wild dash for Earth. A few more warm bodies, a few more skilled minds to get back in the fight sooner. A few more supplies, an extra shuttle, a dropship, or even a small starship. The small cinematic miracles that never made a difference.</span>
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Mrowka’s eyes narrowed, “We’re </span>
  <em>
    <span>all</span>
  </em>
  <span> hurting, colonel. We’re tired, we’re angry, we’re grieving, but that’s no excuse for not doing our jobs.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I understand that. It’s not an excuse, it’s an explanation, captain. I’m not condoning their actions.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Mrowka nodded, “Thank you, colonel. Keep at it. Get your people to find enough guards you can trust. We can’t let them come to harm.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yet.” The colonel winced, and grimaced, “Excuse me. What do you think we’re going to do with them when their food runs out? Let them go?” The colonel did not sound happy saying it.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I don’t care what you have to do. This is going to stop and this is going to stop </span>
  <em>
    <span>now</span>
  </em>
  <span>. I don’t care if you have to…” Mrowka paused, looking away for a brief instant, “...</span>
  <em>
    <span>flog</span>
  </em>
  <span> them to get them to stop! Just keep your people under control, got it?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Holland fixed her with a cold gaze, “Keep your people under control too, Milena. Leathernecks aren’t the only threat to the POWs.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The captain’s expression shifted, then nodded, “I’ll do my part, Phi. Have you had any trouble with the other units?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Grunts, guerillas, and snake-eaters are doing alright. Army personnel has at least some experience with life on the ships, the guerillas know how to stretch supplies, and special ops…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Holland shrugged, and Mrowka snorted a little, “they’re special ops. What exactly </span>
  <em>
    <span>do </span>
  </em>
  <span>they do?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’m not paid enough to find out,” the colonel said. </span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. The Town Hall Meeting from Hell</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Chapter title is credited to Dylan Tullos, the first to review this story. Thanks, friend!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Ever since Rear Admiral Nieves Moreno had taken command of the fleet, she’d had this feeling of deja vu. It felt so strange to come full circle. To be sitting on another</span>
  <em>
    <span> Vanguard</span>
  </em>
  <span>, this time, in the admiral’s quarters.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I'm getting old.</span>
  </em>
  
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The admiral took a sip from her coffee mug, then considered it thoughtfully. It was a battered lightweight metal travel mug with a sealed lid, full of coffee from hydroponics. There was a warship's badge on the side.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“UECNS </span>
  <em>
    <span>Vanguard LSCS-23</span>
  </em>
  <span>”.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Below was written the ship’s motto, “</span>
  <em>
    <span>Intaminatis fulget honoribus</span>
  </em>
  <span>”. “Shines with untarnished honor”.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It was a good luck charm, one of several she had. It followed her wherever she went. This was all that was left of the original ship. That, and Moreno.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Vanguard</span>
  </em>
  <span> was named after the first battleship lost to the Compact, the newest "local space command ship" back in the day, built just before the war started. There'd been speculation she would follow the tradition of </span>
  <em>
    <span>Vanguard </span>
  </em>
  <span>being the name of the last of a breed of warship they no longer needed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Naturally, ramming her prow into the side of a Compact cruiser ended thoughts like that.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Admiral Moreno remembered that day. She remembered the battle, she remembered rushing to an escape pod. She remembered hearing the captain over the radio, defiant to the end as she set the ship's course and brought the reactors to critical.</span>
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Another </span>
  <em>
    <span>Vanguard </span>
  </em>
  <span>had come and gone in ten years of war, and now there was a third. This new one belonged to the first--and unfortunately last--wave of human warships dedicated to fighting the Compact. An </span>
  <em>
    <span>Ifrit</span>
  </em>
  <span>-class battleship could dish out more damage, and stand up to more punishment than most other ships, even enough to enter energy weapon range; though she wouldn't last long in that area, she would certainly last longer than the older ships.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Her brethren proved their worth in the last few formal battles with the Compact, over Earth, and the remaining colonies.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Was it ironic that </span>
  <em>
    <span>Vanguard</span>
  </em>
  <span> was named after the last battleship of the British Empire? Perhaps, in more ways than one.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Now she was last again. Admiral Moreno rubbed the bridge of her nose. She was old, and now so was this ship. Though relativistically speaking, it was brand new. The last battleship built by the Epsilon Indi Home Shipyards, renamed after the last </span>
  <em>
    <span>Vanguard</span>
  </em>
  <span> failed to return from Task Force 97. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>And now she was as outclassed as the first had been. She wasn't any more use than an ironclad against a dreadnought. Or maybe a paddle frigate against a dreadnought. 2,000 years. 2,000 years of unbroken Compact rule over this part of the galaxy.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Does that make </span>
  </em>
  <span>Vanguard </span>
  <em>
    <span>a trireme against a dreadnought?</span>
  </em>
  <span> Moreno wondered.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>As far as they could tell there hadn't been any serious paradigm shifts equivalent to steam power or explosive shells, ships had only gotten better and more efficient. "Only".</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>They were </span>
  <em>
    <span>only </span>
  </em>
  <span>a paddle frigate against a dreadnought. They </span>
  <em>
    <span>only</span>
  </em>
  <span> had matchlocks vs assault rifles. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Only</span>
  </em>
  <span> a Sopwith Camel against a suborbital fighter. Being in the same family tree didn't help.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Moreno’s stomach felt hollow. She felt a trembling in her bones and looked at her left hand. It was shaking. She quickly put her arm down and drank more coffee.</span>
  <em>
    <span> Yeah, that’s gonna help. I was </span>
  </em>
  <span>supposed </span>
  <em>
    <span>to lay off the caffeine.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She leaned back in her chair and added a few more words to the paperwork she was filling out on her laptop. Moreno ran a hand through her dark hair, then stood up and edged her way around the desk, between it and the crates against the wall.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Even on a battleship, an admiral’s quarters were somewhat cramped. Her desk was crammed into a compartment a bit wider than it was, that doubled as storage space, a small kitchen, and a living room area. There were two doors to either side, with the entrance directly opposite. Boxes were stacked wherever they could fit. A couch sat to one side. There was a crate taking up half of it, the lid resting at an angle. One of the side doors led to the bedroom and the other to the bathroom. It was smaller than what a pre-war admiral once had. Every little centimeter of the new ships had to be devoted to waging war. They couldn’t even fudge a little bit.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Moreno reached over to grab her cup, drank the last of it, then considered the old badge again. The old UECN Battle Fleet. She wondered how many still remembered those days. She never thought she’d miss them.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Long boring days spent maintaining their old ships, playing whack-a-mole with pirates and rebels, and wandering around Confederate space showing the flag. Days whiling away the hours, paying for college while singing space shanties. Trying to avoid the officers and messing around. Playing around in microgravity. Nothing happened often enough to make people think they needed battleships much. Cruisers were a bit cheaper.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>That all changed when the Compact came. And now, the battleship she stood on was all that was left of the Battle Fleet’s biggest warships.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Looking up from the cup, she set it aside and picked up a frame magnetized to the desk. It was taken from an O'Neill colony’s observation deck, with a planet rising in the background. It had been surprisingly hard to take that photo as the colony rotated.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>A younger and unscarred version of the admiral, dressed in ensign’s bars, had an arm around a boy who looked much like her, who was struggling to escape her embrace. One of their mothers was crushing both of them, while the other just grinned and leaned her elbow on the rest of them.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Moreno smiled warmly...then caught sight of a datapad sitting on her desk. Her smile faded.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She tapped the pad and it woke up. Rally was displayed on it. The admiral carefully put the photo down and picked up the datapad, scrolling through a menu.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Then without warning, she heaved it across the room. It split in half against the wall.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She stalked over to the pieces, picked up one, and threw it in the garbage disposal. Moreno picked up the other...and dropped it again. She raised her foot to stomp on it, a growl forming in her throat, and barely stopped herself before her boot made contact.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She picked the piece back up and sat down heavily on a couch, burying her face in her hands.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Why her? Why them? Why </span>
  <em>
    <span>humanity</span>
  </em>
  <span>? Why did it have to happen? Why was she the last admiral?</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Memories of the Tribunes grinning on displays, the sneers in their voices, those slimy statements that made her want to punch their teeth swirled in her mind.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Inferior races". "Superiority". "Civilization". She knew those words.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She leaned back, putting her elbow on the crate beside her. She opened it and pulled out an old photo for what must’ve been the hundredth time that day.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It depicted a whole clan, going back several generations. Her eyes fixed on one small old man, standing next to a small dark-haired child.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Her great grandfather knew those words too. He told all the children of his family what his grandfather had told him. The family had long since moved into space, but the scars were still there. They still held onto the memories.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Her name told the tale. A Spanish name.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>They're doing it again. They did it again!</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Segregation, racial bias, "inferiority". The American ancestry in her family included those who’d perpetrated this sort of thing, from the condescending nonsense to the outright extermination.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>They're doing it </span>
  </em>
  <span>again!</span>
  
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>They'd fought so hard to escape colonialism only to bump into it again in outer space.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Three thousand warships in the Battle Fleet alone, not counting the hundreds of other warships in human space. Thousands of merchant vessels. Tens of thousands of fortresses and defense platforms. Hundreds of thousands of fighters, if not millions. How the mighty have fallen.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Out of hundreds of admirals, millions of officers, billions of soldiers, why did it have to be her? Any of them could’ve been her. Billions of people came to fight in the war and she found it incredible that she was the only admiral left.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The sheer scale of it...everything was relying on her now. There was no one else left. She wanted to be someone else. A shuttle pilot, an ensign, just so </span>
  <em>
    <span>she</span>
  </em>
  <span> wouldn’t be the ones making the decisions. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She wanted everything to just stop.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She wanted…</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Ice cream.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Ice cream?</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Screw it. No one’s too old for ice cream.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>At least </span>
  <em>
    <span>something</span>
  </em>
  <span> in the universe that made her happy that couldn’t be found at the bottom of a bottle. She’d save that for a special occasion. Like right before they--</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Moreno shot to her feet and walked to the door. She had to show her face anyway, keep what little remained of morale alive.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Officer’s country was quiet, or at least as it could be on a starship. The engines hummed distantly, there were murmurs of machinery and elevators. Ventilation systems, conduits, and pipes lined the ceiling, like most vessels since the age of steamships. She passed officers and crew, saluting them along the way. They were all professionals, all veterans, the best of the best.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The admiral chuckled darkly. They were the best because there wasn’t anyone else left. The only ones they could compare themselves to were the handful of replacements they got from the civilian population.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>God, what a world.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She made it to the elevator and called out her intended destination. The doors shut, and it hummed into motion.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>After a few seconds of travel, the elevator stopped and the doors opened to allow in three sailors. The one in the center looked dazed and was being helped along by the other two.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Excuse me," one muttered to Moreno, trying to get into the car as quickly as possible and not paying attention to who was inside. She was a tall woman, or at least taller than the rest of them in the compartment. She called out their destination to the computer. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>As the doors closed, she did a double-take at the admiral and tapped one of the other sailors. They immediately shot to attention and saluted, "Admiral Moreno! Sorry, we didn't--!"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The middle sailor, an average height man, tried to stand to attention as well. The admiral winced and returned the salute, "at ease." </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She pointed to the middle sailor, "you especially!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She noted the way his jaw was a bit limp, and he kept pawing at it. Moreno glanced at the other two, “Dental surgery?"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The other two sailors relaxed, and nodded, "yes ma'am. We’re just coming from the dental office. He's going to be out of it for a few hours. We're just walking him to his bunk."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The admiral nodded, "was he injured?"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Ah, no, just routine surgery." The third sailor replied, a little more easily than the first, "he was putting it off a lot."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"I was </span>
  <em>
    <span>busy</span>
  </em>
  <span>…!" The middle man garbled.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Yes Shaun, the admiral's here, quiet down…" the first sailor said. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The impaired sailor blinked, “Huh…?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He glanced around, looking at the manual display on one side of the elevator, “We set the right elevator setting, right?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>As he bumped his hand limply against the screen, one of his friends laughed, “Well the </span>
  <em>
    <span>idea’s</span>
  </em>
  <span> there...we got it, man, come on, settle down…”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>There was an awkward silence for a moment.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Where are you headed admiral?” the second sailor asked, brushing back a bit of her relatively long hair. She’d been putting off some appointments as well. Everyone was looking a little ragged.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Just to the snack board a few decks down. And you two?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“After we’re done dealing with him we go back on our shift, admiral,” the second sailor replied, “the work never stops.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The admiral shook her head, “No rest for the wicked, eh?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"No, ma'am."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Moreno looked the taller sailor up and down, "where are you from, sailor?"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She blinked, "uh... Ganymede, ma'am."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Oh, that's why you're…"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The sailor smiled a little, "yes, ma’am. Tall even for back home."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Moreno nodded, opened her mouth as if to ask something else, then winced and closed it.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’m from Oceanus. Where are you from, ma’am?” the other female sailor asked.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’m from Slayton Colony.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’ve never been there.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The admiral smiled, "I've never been to Ganymede or Oceanus."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Their expressions fell.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The elevator made it to Moreno’s floor, and the admiral stepped off, "carry on."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She walked past one of the ship’s kitchens. Most of the ingredients were from the ship’s hydroponics, algae tanks, and cultured meat; they had to conserve their MREs and frozen foods.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>A hatch opened automatically upon one of the ship’s snack boards; there were a handful of such facilities aboard ship. It was smaller than the mess halls, with several bar stool elements and a few small tables. It was built more like a coffee shop than anything else. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The nickname of the “snack board” went back to the earliest large spaceships in Terran history. Back then it </span>
  <em>
    <span>was</span>
  </em>
  <span> just a snack board; a counter made out of crates, or a board stuck to a wall on ships without gravity, usually in closets or cargo holds. It was a luxury for ships to have more than one mess hall, and making a separate facility for a bar, or (typically prohibited) snacks was prohibitively expensive.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>There was even a small stage where a band of sailors was performing music. They were using instruments that were some of their last of their kind left in the universe. They sang old space shanties and music of ages gone by. Of a civilization that had burned down to the sparks; not even burning embers, but </span>
  <em>
    <span>sparks</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The admiral got into line. It was an old tradition from 20th-century naval vessels, even the admiral had to wait her turn for ice cream, snacks, or drinks. She got her ice cream, and with the first taste was hit with a flash of memories. And a brain freeze.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Wincing, and shaking off the bittersweet echoes, Moreno walked over to a nearby empty table, glancing up at the small band. They must’ve dug their instruments out of storage.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <strong>
    <em>
      <span>Carmen Miranda’s ghost is haunting Space Station 3</span>
    </em>
  </strong>
  <span>…”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The admiral raised an eyebrow. She hadn’t heard that one in a while. The clatter of instruments and the deep sound of a cello combined surprisingly well. She hummed along to the lyrics, drowning out her tired thoughts. She winced at the song’s mention of fresh fruit. They’d have to be careful with hydroponics...</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Abruptly, a woman in a blue-on-black uniform sat down across from her. The pale Captain Mrowka was sitting there with a bowl of ice cream, looking exhausted.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Admiral.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Captain.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Moreno stabbed her ice cream with her spoon, “What do you have for me?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“The meeting’s been scheduled for 1430 hours.” Mrowka slid a datapad over, “finally got a representative from everyone and everything currently flying."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Understood. Anything to report?" Moreno asked, scrolling through the datapad.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Mrowka shook her head, "Not much. Rearmament and refueling are still going fine, nothing there, we haven't lost any more ships, no unusual fatalities…"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Stasis units?"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Nothing to report."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Life support?"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Nothing's in the red yet. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Vanguard's</span>
  </em>
  <span> okay. There's nothing she can't…"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Mrowka's words caught in her throat. She sighed, and went back to her ice cream, “We’re as good as we’re gonna get. It’s all in the report there.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Thank you, Captain.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Mrowka nodded and eyed the admiral’s ice cream. “Never pegged you for liking this stuff.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Even admirals have to eat sometimes.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Moreno expected some kind of banter or snarky comment, but the captain fell silent. She didn’t talk for a long time, simply listening to the band's music and avoiding eye contact.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Finally, she said, "You know, I was in command of the</span>
  <em>
    <span> Thunder Child</span>
  </em>
  <span>. The third one."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Moreno looked up and nodded, "I remember. The review board had some glowing recommendations, and a few against you."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Mrowka looked to the side. "The puppies weren't happy about our frigate kicking their asses. The brass was even less happy. A brand new frigate and I go and get it destroyed."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"I remember the reports. You and the rest of the tin cans saved a lot of lives."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The captain still looked to the side. "Yeah."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Mrowka stabbed at her ice cream, "Three to one kill ratio. But I lost </span>
  <em>
    <span>Thunder Child</span>
  </em>
  <span>.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Moreno remembered the fiasco, “You were lucky enough and good enough to survive, captain. I remember how they were calling for blood. They were looking for someone to blame. But they didn’t blame </span>
  <em>
    <span>you</span>
  </em>
  <span>.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Mrowka turned her gaze on the admiral. “Do you remember where her name came from? An old Earth novel, </span>
  <em>
    <span>The War of the Worlds</span>
  </em>
  <span>. An ironclad, an ancient sea warship, went up against alien invaders. Kicked their asses but went down."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Sounds familiar."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Yeah. It </span>
  <em>
    <span>did</span>
  </em>
  <span>.” Mrowka scowled, and swirled her spoon, “They could fight the aliens, but they couldn’t defeat them. Now though, there's a line I've been thinking about a lot lately from the book.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She stabbed the ice cream again, “a soldier describes the humans going up against the aliens as ''Bows and arrows against the lightning'."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She turned her glare to the admiral, "is </span>
  <em>
    <span>Vanguard</span>
  </em>
  <span> just a bow and arrow, ma'am?"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Moreno looked her in the eyes. She noted there were several officers nearby, who would undoubtedly spread it through the grapevine. It was the only thing faster than a shift drive.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"No. We're not just a bow and arrow. We're still a Navy. As long as we're alive there's still hope. A rock can kill just as well as a particle beam. Hell, an arrow could probably down a fighter if you hit it in the right place.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The last song ended, and a new one started up. There was a deep note, followed by two that went higher and higher.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"</span>
  <strong>
    <em>
      <span>The arching sky is calling spacers back to their trade, all hands stand by, free-falling, as the lights below us fade…</span>
    </em>
  </strong>
  <span>"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The somber music with its strong chords rang through the compartment. Conversation died. Everything was silent beyond the singer.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>All eyes were on her, the dark-haired woman singing with a voice that probably wouldn't be accepted in a major production, but was still quite pleasant. She passed through the initial verses, then to the chorus.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"</span>
  <strong>
    <em>
      <span>We pray for one last landing On the globe that gave us birth</span>
    </em>
  </strong>
  <span>…"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>One by one, a number of the other officers joined in the ancient spacer song.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <strong>
    <em>
      <span>Let us rest our eyes on the fleecy skies And the cool green hills of Earth…</span>
    </em>
  </strong>
  <span>”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>To the tune of Amazing Grace, the song cataloged the worlds of Sol, her moons, her planetoids, her less-than-stellar children, and her mote in a sunbeam.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"</span>
  <strong>
    <em>
      <span>Take us back again to our distant homes, and the cool green hills of Earth</span>
    </em>
  </strong>
  <span>…"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It was an old, old, </span>
  <em>
    <span>old</span>
  </em>
  <span> song, but like the seafarers before them, spacers didn’t care how old the songs were. Certain things never went away.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>As they went to the last verse, the singer's voice cracked.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>An instrument groaned.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>And someone burst into tears.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Mrowka felt something wet splatter across her arm. She looked forward and saw the admiral had crushed her disposable cup in one hand, without even noticing it. It had practically imploded.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>After a moment, Moreno looked down, her face expressionless. She grabbed a napkin and wiped down the table, "excuse me, captain. I'll see you at the meeting. I need to use the head."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Moreno moved calmly, pausing to throw out her cup. She passed the weeping sailor being led out by a friend.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Good thing it was officer's country. It wouldn't do for him to have broken down with the enlisted.</span>
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Moreno went to the bathroom, washing off her sleeves. Her hands were shaking. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She looked at herself in the mirror. </span>
  <em>
    <span>The last admiral.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She wondered what that would mean for uniform changes.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Do I need a cape?</span>
  </em>
  <span> She laughed to herself. Her laughter quickly faded.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The feeling from her quarters returned. She wanted to go home. She wanted to go home, crawl under her bunk, and never come out.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>But home was gone. There was no home anymore. Those green hills no longer existed. Earth, that blue spinning space mote, was gone. They didn’t even have a planet. They had </span>
  <em>
    <span>nothing</span>
  </em>
  <span>. Nothing but this worthless battleship and ramshackle fleet.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>There was a seizing in her chest. She felt tinges on the edges of her eyes.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Moreno held her head, </span>
  <em>
    <span>Get it together, </span>
  </em>
  <span>admiral</span>
  <em>
    <span>, get it together!</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Hiraeth, a miserable sensation.</span>
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>
  <strong>
    <span>XXXXX</span>
  </strong>
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The briefing room was slowly filled with personnel</span>
  <em>
    <span>; Vanguard's</span>
  </em>
  <span> senior staff and representatives from the rest of the fleet. Captains and their staff, ground forces officers, civilian authorities, a representative from the handful of Office of Naval Intelligence agents, and another from their even-smaller handful of personnel from UEC intelligence agencies.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Most appeared in digital form from their briefing rooms, unable to leave their ships.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Admiral Moreno sat beside Captain Mrowka and Colonel Holland. Their uniforms were straight, they’d caught a few hours of sleep, and their faces passive. The senior military staff had to maintain appearances. They were still a military, after all. But for how long?</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>As the last representatives checked in, Admiral Moreno cleared her throat, "So by now we've all heard the news. Muster, Assembly, Gather, Rally, they're all off the table."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The admiral looked around at the ragged gathering with a steady gaze. The other senior officers had to be strong. </span>
  <em>
    <span>What an honor.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’m sure the question on everyone’s mind is, ‘what do we do now?’”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>There were nods.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What we’re </span>
  <em>
    <span>not</span>
  </em>
  <span> going to do is fall apart now. This is our mission. We knew this was a one-way trip.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Moreno put her hands together on the table. “The situation is grim. We’ve taken damage, we’re down a lot of fuel, and we’ve got limited ordnance and resources. We’re in unknown territory, in an unknown </span>
  <em>
    <span>time</span>
  </em>
  <span>, and our tech is severely outclassed.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She looked around. They were uncertain and worried. Who wouldn’t be? She wouldn’t let them stay that way. “But we’re still alive. And as long as we’re still alive, we have a mission. Long-term, our mission remains the same; keep everyone safe, and find a place to put down. The details on that, and exactly how we get there, however, are why we’re here.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She grimaced, “I’m afraid we can’t say right now where we’re going to get resupply, where exactly we’re going to go, or if there is anyone out there willing to help us. </span>
  <em>
    <span>But </span>
  </em>
  <span>our mission is still the same. Our situation is grim, but not </span>
  <em>
    <span>hopeless</span>
  </em>
  <span>.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>People looked more attentive. The military personnel sat a little straighter. There were more nods and some quizzical looks.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Moreno took in their expressions, “No matter what happens, no matter how long it’s been, no matter how much we’ve lost, we are </span>
  <em>
    <span>still</span>
  </em>
  <span> Terrans. We are </span>
  <em>
    <span>still </span>
  </em>
  <span>the UEC Navy, and we are </span>
  <em>
    <span>still </span>
  </em>
  <span>citizens of the United Earth Confederacy. Wherever we are, wherever we go, we are still bound to uphold our oaths, the constitution, and defend humankind. Our job is still the same. We’re going to figure out what we’re going to do next, and we </span>
  <em>
    <span>are</span>
  </em>
  <span> going to survive.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She scanned the room again. She nodded with satisfaction. They brightened up a bit. Everyone was listening.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Now, we need to figure out what to do next. I heard about some nasty rumors going around, so before we jump to any conclusions or set up any plans, we’re going to go over the data we recovered from the salvage ship. I’ve heard some nasty rumors about what you think is happening out there, so this will clear things up. Captain Mrowka?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Captain Mrowka tapped her PDA, “From the salvage ship and its crew, we were able to update our star charts, and get a basic understanding of the current situation in the galaxy.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The battleship captain nodded to one of their Office of Naval Intelligence representatives. “Lieutenant Halverson will explain in detail.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The lieutenant nodded, “The Compact is still the dominant power in this region of space. They are currently in their Seventh Age of Expansion, up from the Fifth we went through. They’re expanding further into deep space and finding more races to enslave.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>They activated the holographic projector in the table. It displayed a view of their section of the galaxy. It showed a small blue dot, the former territory of the United Earth Confederacy, surrounded by red territory that stretched a fair distance across the stars. The blue dot winked out, and the red expanded farther and farther over the galaxy. It was now worse than the most pessimistic estimations of the size of Compact territory Moreno had seen.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“This is Compact territory according to the database. While it has grown in size, not much has changed since we’ve been gone, or rather, the Compact as we know it has not changed. While they’ve grown in size, the basic structure we all know still exists. There’s been incremental technological </span>
  <em>
    <span>growth</span>
  </em>
  <span>, naturally, but both politically and technologically there have been no major upheavals or paradigm shifts.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“That we know of.” Mrowka commented, “This </span>
  <em>
    <span>is</span>
  </em>
  <span> a Compact civilian database.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Halverson nodded, “We have discovered important information on Compact foreign relations, and certain internal politics. There’s significantly more detail in the notes I have sent to each of your devices, so I will summarize.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>They hit a few controls, and an insignia appeared above the galactic map. It pointed at a green clump next to the red blotch. “This is the Askanj Principality, the second-biggest star empire that we know of. They’re a parliamentary system of several different races, like the Compact of Species. However, they’re the Compact’s biggest foe, and have been for the last few millennia, since the Earth year 1573.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>There were murmurs. Earth was still figuring out astronomy back then, weren’t they?</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“They’ve been in a war of attrition that goes cold and hot at various points in time. The Principality is losing, but very, very, </span>
  <em>
    <span>very</span>
  </em>
  <span> slowly.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>They explained more details of the Principality, some blurry images of their warships, technology, and some dubious accounts of their engagements with the Compact.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“They sound like better people at least.” Senator Abdul Pearce, their senior civilian government official, said, “Someone who can stand up to the Compact? Maybe they could use our experience.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Were they fighting the Compact during the war?” Commander Nelda Frye of the frigate </span>
  <em>
    <span>Armada</span>
  </em>
  <span> asked.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“We don’t think so,” Halverson replied.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The commander huffed, “So while we were being exterminated, they were sitting pretty? We bought </span>
  <em>
    <span>them</span>
  </em>
  <span> time to survive?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>There were murmurs from some of the others. The lieutenant didn’t appear to know how to respond, “Uh…”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“They let the Compact wipe us out while they got to lick their wounds?” Frye demanded loudly, and stood up, “Those bastards sat back and </span>
  <em>
    <span>watched</span>
  </em>
  <span>?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Commander--” Commander Kawasaki Kosami of the destroyer </span>
  <em>
    <span>Hatsuyuki</span>
  </em>
  <span>, who sat beside her, started to say, but she shook him off.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Lieutenant, are you saying while we </span>
  <em>
    <span>died</span>
  </em>
  <span>, they got to sit back and </span>
  <em>
    <span>watch</span>
  </em>
  <span>?” she snarled.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Commander!” Moreno snapped.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Frye blinked, and immediately straightened to attention before she knew what she was doing, “Ah…”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Sit down.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yes ma’am.” the commander sat.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“We don’t know </span>
  <em>
    <span>anything</span>
  </em>
  <span> about the Principality. This is from a Compact database,” the admiral pointed to the hologram, “We don’t know what they knew. And they were on the other side of Compact territory. Is there anything they </span>
  <em>
    <span>could </span>
  </em>
  <span>have done? Let's not jump to conclusions.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She looked at Halverson, "go on."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Uh...there are various rebel factions within the Compact that they call 'Unbound', pirates, guerillas, basically anyone who won't play ball.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Halverson explained more specific details, what they knew about the newest expansions, pirate bases, and speculation based on what they knew of Compact propaganda.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>When that was finished, Mrowka took over. “Thank you, lieutenant. Now, we all want to know what happened to our people.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She gestured to the holographic display. Three worlds appeared. One was brown, with a little blue. Another was almost entirely green, but the wrong sort of green. A dark green that looked like a global jungle except for the oceans. The third looked habitable, at least barely, with brown, green, and blue.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span> “Based on the records we recovered from the salvage ship, Muster and Assembly were destroyed, and Gather was uninhabited until about five-hundred years ago. We can only assume their convoy was destroyed before they could reach it.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Mrowka pointed at each of the planets respectively, with red dots highlighted on the third planet. “Muster has markings from ancient bombardments on several spots on the equator. They’re old, but they’re there. From what little we have on record, that was where promising farmland and mineral resources were.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She pointed at the green planet, “Assembly was much harder to parse out. Our expected landing sites were overgrown, with no evidence left. However, the salvage ship passed through that region personally. They picked up a news report on a landslide local Compact colonists discovered. The landslide wasn’t a landslide, it’s the impact site for a large space station. It came in at a steep angle, clipped a mountain, and created a massive fireball that didn’t make a conventional impact crater.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Mrowka grimaced, “From the photos and the age in the article...it looks like one of ours.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She indicated the red dots on the third planet, “There’s absolutely no evidence of bombardments, ships, or impact craters. Compact colonists reached the planet about five-hundred years ago, and they haven’t noticed anything. In all likelihood, the convoy was destroyed before reaching the planet. And Rally…”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The captain gestured to the hologram, which switched to an image from a Compact information network. It displayed a green world that wouldn't have been out of place in the lists of the bigger colonies before the war. There was a significant orbital presence, lights on the dark side, all the signs of civilization.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Rally has fallen to the enemy. All other known fallback points have been compromised."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>There were murmurs, mostly curses, and statements of anger.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Commander Hawkins cleared his throat, “As projected, all remnants of any United Earth Confederacy government forces were destroyed, and all settlements in Earth space were wiped out. All convoys, deep space bases, sanctuary colonies, and most other survivors beyond known space that we had records of were systematically exterminated. There is very little remaining evidence of human civilization on our former holdings, as a result of deliberate erasure. Most of the former Earth space is now contained in a region of space known as the Kaedan Vault, which is deemed a dangerous sector of space nobody goes in. There is some traffic, and numerous outposts, but most of its few and far between. Rally is the only known human colony that still exists."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"With the unexpected time dilation, most of our contingency plans are no longer effective." Mrowka said, “And we can only assume our potential colony sites are compromised or will only be safe for a short time.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Is anything effective anymore?" Someone muttered under their breath, a bit too loudly.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"We knew this was a chance we'd have to take," Moreno said calmly.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She looked around and fixed each face in her mind. She had a feeling they wouldn’t see everyone at the same table here again for a long time. "We knew this wasn't a flawless plan. We have to roll with the punches. Captain, Commander, explain the Rally ‘situation’."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Mrowka winced, and Hawkins' hand curled into a fist.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Lieutenant Halverson?” Mrowka asked, her voice level and calm.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Halverson nodded, and read from their PDA, “If you’ll look in the files I’ve sent, you’ll see the details of the colony. To summarize, official Compact records say a convoy made planetfall, the colony was nearly destroyed by several large asteroid impacts, losing a large portion of the population and their surviving industry. They state the colony was ‘rescued’ by a Compact science expedition.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Translation; the Commies dropped rocks on them and enslaved them.” an army officer, Colonel Suman Berne, muttered.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Or maybe it was dumb luck," Commander Kosami replied, "you think with the way things have gone, they'd be fortunate enough to have to be </span>
  <em>
    <span>attacked</span>
  </em>
  <span>?"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“But that doesn't make sense. Didn’t they have any ships left?” a civilian representative asked, “Anything to take the asteroids down? It's gotta be Commie propaganda."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Most of their civilian ships wouldn't be space-worthy after that long," Captain Nguyen Vinh Long of the </span>
  <em>
    <span>Suffren</span>
  </em>
  <span> said, "and how many warships do </span>
  <em>
    <span>we</span>
  </em>
  <span> have left?"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Naval forces would've been the first ships lost. Even if a convoy got away, anytime someone engaged them, they had to keep the Compact off their tail, and stay behind." Moreno said cooly. "There weren't that many escorts to begin with."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The others fell silent. Everyone remembered the sacrifices of their protectors.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>There had been more ships in the squadron. There had been </span>
  <em>
    <span>two </span>
  </em>
  <span>squadrons. There had been more civilian ships. And they still left god-knows-how many more people and ships behind.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Moreno drank more of her coffee.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Halverson coughed, and started up again, “Official Compact records claim that humanity was extremely primitive, that we were savages who destroyed Earth with overpopulation, ecological destruction, and economic collapse. A convoy of ships that were boxes with warp drives attached shifted to Rally, nearly died on the way, then got hit by those asteroids. The Compact expedition found them before they died and now has been guiding them to civilization. They claim they have taken care of the Rally population, given them everything, and without them, humanity would have gone extinct.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“So they should be grateful little slaves, right.” Captain Long growled, “be kind and know your place.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“There are about 4.6 billion humans on Rally, independent on paper with some ‘guidance’ by Compact ruling races. In practice, the Compact controls the planet, all space forces, and has severely limited human expansion beyond the planet. The largest human populations off-world are within the Rally system. They live in a police state that restricts free speech, restricts mobility, imposes population control, and heavily monitors the media.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Does anyone remember anything? Aren’t there artifacts left?” another civilian representative commented, “ It’s hard to erase an entire star nation. And wouldn’t people hide information? Wouldn’t there be </span>
  <em>
    <span>someone</span>
  </em>
  <span>?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What about our -- the convoy’s ships? Aren’t there any of those left?” an engineer asked.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Halverson checked their notes, “Some ships still exist. We don’t know how they may have been altered, but likely records were destroyed or put in vaults. We don’t have their police records, and we’re going off the equivalent of an encyclopedia. We don’t have everything. We don’t know if there is anyone left who remembers, but we can’t be certain there </span>
  <em>
    <span>aren’t</span>
  </em>
  <span> either. There are several human dissidents, but we can’t be sure how many are just normal criminals, rebellious folks, or if they remember Earth."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>They hit a control and brought up a picture of a red symbol. “There is one Unbound faction that got our attention, known as the Red Hand. They seem to be a savvier pirate group than usual. The Commie database practically says as much, warning civilians to stay away, and saying they’re more dangerous than others. What’s interesting though is they are the only major Unbound clan led by a human known as the ‘Blue Fire’, or, ‘Adrianna LeBlanc, Rally’s most wanted’. She’s got a criminal record dating back decades, and is a point of humiliation for Rally.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The lieutenant grimaced, “Unfortunately we have no information on her beyond that. A human being famous doesn’t necessarily mean they remember.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“They erased everything.” Frye growled, “They destroyed everything, slaughtered our people, and enslaved Rally.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Moreno felt strange. Not quite numb, more distant. She wanted to just get up and leave, to just run away and never come back. A racket of sound in her mind formed one single indecipherable tone.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"They call people from Rally, or any human for that matter, 'Broken'," Halverson said quietly, "when they found the colony with all the industry and technology destroyed, they saw them effectively broken as a people. Hence…' Broken'."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The attendees looked through the information on their devices. They talked amongst themselves and grew more and more distressed.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Bastards…” Captain Nichelle Hudgens of the </span>
  <em>
    <span>Canberra</span>
  </em>
  <span> hissed. Her grip tightened on her PDA, “Bloody </span>
  <em>
    <span>bastards</span>
  </em>
  <span>!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“There’s intense population control, and--”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Child abuse! State-sanctioned child abuse!” Senator Pearce snapped, “‘Anti-cooperative behavior’, ‘non-compliant dialogue’...They rewire their brains if they don’t behave? That’s monstrous!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Moreno recalled the man had a daughter with behavioral problems, like many children. Her grip on her cup tightened.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Are they surprised they’re acting up?” a civilian skipper asked, and shook their head, “God…”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“They’re not surprised in the least. This is how they deal with it.” another replied.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“‘Media materials ideologically consistent with…’ What the hell is this, the Spanish Inquisition?” Commander Dakota Sherman of the </span>
  <em>
    <span>Hoel</span>
  </em>
  <span> snarled. She looked around, “We should’ a blasted that salvage ship out of the sky for this!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Holland furrowed her brow, “Humans don’t have an aptitude toward combat skills? That’s downright offensive. As if they weren’t racist </span>
  <em>
    <span>enough</span>
  </em>
  <span>…!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>This</span>
  </em>
  <span> was what we had to look forward to under Compact rule if we surrendered?” Pearce demanded, “Eugenics? Social engineering? Enlightened indeed. They do this to the people they like, and then exterminate anyone they don’t?!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Species-death is a regrettable decision, but if done was wholly justified,” Halverson said grimly.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"It's like they hit the big war crimes first then decided to work their way back to get all the ones they missed," Moreno muttered. She had a mental image of strangling the Tribune down in the brig.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What’s this race, the ‘Verrish’?” Holland muttered.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What are you looking at?” asked Berne.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Found this news article about one. Something about…” Holland squinted, “first Verrish they chose as a provisional member of the space force. She was from Rally.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“There’s a significant alien population on the colony,” the lieutenant said, “but humans make up the majority.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“So who are the Verrish, then?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“They’re a relatively recent addition to the Compact, about thirty or forty years ago. They’re about two and a half meters tall, blue-skin omnivorous humanoids descended from carnivores. From the sound of it, they had a mid-21st century level of technology before the invasion.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Halverson checked their notes once again, “They describe them as the usual kind of savages who destroyed their home and tried to kill Compact landing forces. From what we can gather from the propaganda, they were unusually resistant and held them off for several years. They eventually reached a peace settlement with terms of surrender, instead of unconditional surrender.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Sounds like our kind of people,” Berne commented.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span> Holland nodded, “Anyone who towers over Tribunes and fights Commies with an AK-47 is okay by me in my book.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Our records on Rally are detailed based on a lot of our knowledge,” Halverson said, “I’m afraid beyond Rally and certain Compact subjects, most of our intel comes from the prisoners, the last time they checked in with their data networks, and their ship database. It’s pretty detailed, especially for a civilian ship, but that’s because of their profession. A lot of it is less than reliable.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“So what are some of them doing on Rally?” Moreno asked. She checked the location of Vara Tal, the Verrish homeworld, against Rally’s in their updated star charts.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Halverson grimaced again and eyed Pearce strangely. They took a deep breath, “To try and help the Verrish ‘develop an appropriate cultural mindset’, they initiated the Envoy Children program.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The senator’s gaze narrowed. Moreno’s knuckles on her cup were pale.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The lieutenant looked at their PDA. “They took away virtually an entire generation of Verrish children to be raised by an already-assimilated population. The Broken population.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>There was a chorus of murmured curses, expletives, and interjections. A Triarch must’ve been in stitches over this. The dramatic irony, the race that had fought so hard, had made them fight for every nanometer of space, bled them, hurt them, made a noble and defiant last stand with everything they had…</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Was now helping enslave the next unusually defiant race. It made Moreno sick.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Commander Frye’s knuckles turned white.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Sherman threw her PDA down in disgust.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Pearce put his pad down slowly, but with no less disgust.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Children…” he muttered, “It’s always children with them! They’re just kids, why can’t they leave them alone?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Why do you think?” snapped a man in plain clothes, “They’re the Compact!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Moreno took a moment to recognize him. Most of the others wore uniforms or jumpsuits, but Rutendo Blake wore a ragged mixture of outdoor sports clothing and militia paraphernalia. He was the elected representative of several insurgent groups they’d rescued. Many of them were probably the last representatives of their colonies. They deserved a seat here as much as anyone.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Remember what they did to the planets they captured.” spoke up Captain Zdenka Kumar. She was Navy Special Warfare Operations(NSWO), one of the representatives from the UEC Special Operations Command(UECSOC), the collective special forces of each UEC military service.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“They were planning operations like this. The only reason they didn’t do it to us is that we killed one of their kaiju.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She looked around, “We didn’t see anything like this before the attacks, but they were about two steps away from it.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Blake nodded, crossing his arms. “They were using a mixture of direct and indirect methods of control on us. Keeping the colonial administrations in place in some areas, and replacing it in others. They tried to teach some form of Compact Standard, messing with schools, forcing a lot of assimilation, stuff like that.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He didn’t look well. One of his compatriots patted him on the shoulder, and he tried to relax.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Moreno scratched her chin. Everything relied on her now. There was no one else left. Once again, she wanted to be someone else. An ensign, a battery commander, even a shuttle jockey. Just so it wouldn’t be her who made the decisions.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She wanted everything to just stop, to go home, to go home, crawl under her bunk, and never come out. But home was gone. There was no home anymore. And that only made it worse. Hiraeth, a miserable sensation. Her eyes itched.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Admiral Moreno put her hands together, her face calm, her eyes dry, “Alright. So we’re not the last of the human race, but Rally is still off the table. We’ve got civilians to look after.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She looked at Pearce and his compatriots, “Seeing as all other Confederate forces have been destroyed, we’re going to need to appoint a new president.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The procedure had been to wait until planetfall before determining the new president, in case contact with other colonies could be established. That was no longer an option.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Senator Pearce looked at his companions and nodded. “We just need to perform the swearing-in ceremony.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Moreno nodded, “Captain Mrowka, and I will witness it. Now, we’ll need to figure out what we’re going to do next, naturally.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The room went quiet.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Something I don’t understand is why Earth space is still considered off-limits,” a mining representative asked quietly, “Why, even after so long? Did we piss them off that much? What about all the resources?"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Lieutenant Halverson checked their notes, "According to our captives, it's not </span>
  <em>
    <span>quite</span>
  </em>
  <span> off-limits, it's just that bad things happen to the companies that try and exploit UEC territory, and they don’t put down many bases anymore. They chalk them up to economic downturn, corruption, and something called Naiads. They're some kind of deep space legend."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Like the space bats?" An officer asked.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Space bats were one of many legends from before the war about alien life. There were all sorts of hoaxes and creepy stories that occasionally attracted media attention, many around mysterious disappearances, and lost colonies.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Yeah. The Compact's descriptions of them are sketchy. They talk about them like they're some deep space ocean predators or something. They don't know that much about them but blame them for anything they can't explain, sort of like Gremlins. Or UFOs.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The lieutenant grimaced, “But unlike space bats, these are considered real. Sorta. There are reports of squadrons of modern Compact warships that have been lost under mysterious circumstances, with nothing but debris left behind.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Great. Something else to watch out for.” Captain Hudgens grunted.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Mrowka looked at the miners, “Why were you asking? Did you have an idea in mind?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Not exactly, we were just wondering.” the representative scratched her head.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Does anyone have any initial proposals?” Mrowka asked the room at large.</span>
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I say we get our people back,” muttered Commander Sherman. She scowled at the hologram of Rally.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“We </span>
  <em>
    <span>can’t</span>
  </em>
  <span>. Our guns are useless!” Frye snarled, “We might as well be firing spitballs at 'em!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"And...Ma'am, with all due respect, they aren't exactly our people anymore." Lieutenant Halverson said quietly.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>There were a handful of reluctant nods. Only a handful, but it concerned her.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Moreno shook her head. She stood up and put her hands on the table, “No. I won’t accept that. I don’t care if they’re brainwashed. I don’t care how long it’s been.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She pointed at the image, “That world was discovered by a human. Human beings colonized it. Human beings are still the vast majority of people on it. That's where the majority of </span>
  <em>
    <span>our </span>
  </em>
  <span>population is. As far as I'm concerned, that's occupied UEC territory. No matter how long it’s been, as far as I’m concerned, they’re still people of Earth. The people of Earth we all swore to protect. They’re our responsibility. There’s no one else who will do it. We </span>
  <em>
    <span>will</span>
  </em>
  <span> get them back. We </span>
  <em>
    <span>will </span>
  </em>
  <span>liberate them. No matter how long it takes, we </span>
  <em>
    <span>will </span>
  </em>
  <span>get our people back."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She looked around, "we're not 'broken', are we? We're still here. </span>
  <em>
    <span>We are not </span>
  </em>
  <span>broken</span>
  <em>
    <span>.</span>
  </em>
  <span>"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>There were more nods and some noises of affirmation, but she wasn’t satisfied. “I said, ‘we are not </span>
  <em>
    <span>broken’</span>
  </em>
  <span>!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>More nods this time, and louder agreement, with several cheers.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The admiral chuckled dryly, “Well, I suppose it’s better than nothing. Now we need plans, further courses of action.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Silence.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Is there anything we </span>
  <em>
    <span>can</span>
  </em>
  <span> do?” Murphy Vang, civilian commander of the freighter </span>
  <em>
    <span>John Burke</span>
  </em>
  <span>, asked. He looked down at the floor. As the room went silent, he realized all eyes were on him.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Moreno didn’t know the man. She didn’t know many of the civilian captains. She remembered seeing Vang’s name on the list of </span>
  <em>
    <span>Boe</span>
  </em>
  <span>-class freighter captains, that he was a young officer with his ship only a year old. She didn’t know much else.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I...uh…”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>What</span>
  </em>
  <span>?” Blake growled.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“We can’t surrender!” Frye snapped.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’m not saying surrender--”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“They’ll do this to us!” the </span>
  <em>
    <span>Hoel</span>
  </em>
  <span>’s skipper barked, and threw her pad on the table, “They’re the </span>
  <em>
    <span>Compact</span>
  </em>
  <span>! They’ll kill us all!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“They stopped exterminating--”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Don’t you remember Good Friday? Don’t you remember </span>
  <em>
    <span>the war</span>
  </em>
  <span>?” Holland demanded.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“We </span>
  <em>
    <span>tried</span>
  </em>
  <span> surrendering! They refused to accept it.” Captain Long said. He made an effort to keep himself calm.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“It’s been 2,000 years, they don’t even remember.” a liner captain pointed out.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Look at this and tell me this is something you want!” Hudgens barked, pointing at her PDA.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“There’s no way we can stay ahead of them!” another freighter captain, Tovia Carmody, an older woman with the ancient freighter </span>
  <em>
    <span>Carmen</span>
  </em>
  <span> said, “Wherever we go, they’ll follow us, and we won’t be able to stop them!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“We don’t have any fleet yards, our ships are going to wear out eventually. Asteroid mining will only get us so far.” said a fabrication ship officer.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"But we do </span>
  <em>
    <span>have</span>
  </em>
  <span> ships--"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You mean our hunks of junk? Not even the </span>
  <em>
    <span>Vanguard</span>
  </em>
  <span> can scratch them! We might as well be throwing arrows at a tank!” a liner captain said.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“We should try heading for this principality,” Kosami suggested, “They’ve held out this long, maybe--”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Those bastards will just blow us out of the sky. Humans are probably enemies of the state because Rally humans are in the Commie military.” Commander Frye snarled, “They won't believe anything we say. Even if they don’t they’ll probably just leave us to die </span>
  <em>
    <span>anyway</span>
  </em>
  <span>.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Settle down,” Mrowka said loudly, “Let’s stay focused--”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Captain, they want to surrender to the Commies!” Frye said loudly.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I heard you, just--”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>You goddamn coward</span>
  </em>
  <span>!” Frye shouted at Vang.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>We can’t win! Hell, we </span>
  </em>
  <span>lost </span>
  <em>
    <span>the war!</span>
  </em>
  <span>” Carmody shouted back.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Yet again, Moreno stood up, “</span>
  <em>
    <span>Enough</span>
  </em>
  <span>! Stand to, sailors!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The military personnel shot to attention, and the civilians lost some steam. All looked at the admiral.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s going to be the last time I have to do this!” Moreno said, “At ease, everyone. And sit down.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Everyone sat back in their seats with a series of murmurs.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Now, until the civilian government says otherwise, we’re still at war with the Compact.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She looked at the government representatives, “I take it you have not submitted an order to surrender in the last five minutes?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Not as of yet,” Pearce said.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Moreno nodded, “So, we’re still fighting. We need supplies, we need weapons, and we need a place to stay.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Our weapons can’t scratch them, admiral,” Captain Long pointed out, “What do you suggest we do?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’m not sure yet. That’s why we’re here.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’m not advocating for surrender--” Vang started, only to be practically growled at by Frye.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Let him talk.” Moreno said, “I want to hear everyone’s thoughts.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’m not advocating for surrender, I’m just saying...what </span>
  <em>
    <span>can </span>
  </em>
  <span>we do? Is it </span>
  <em>
    <span>possible</span>
  </em>
  <span> to win?” Vang asked, looking distressed.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>There were murmurs and no small amount of glares toward him.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“We’ve all lost people to the Commies, I don’t want to end up like Rally, but...just face reality, guys!” Vang got a bit angry now, “Our ships are useless! Our weapons are more unequal than they were at the start of the war!"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Could a Roman legion have found a way to liberate Rome from the fascists?” Sherman reluctantly analogized.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“That doesn’t count, there’s way too much change that’s happened.” a civilian science vessel commander dismissed.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“She has a point, Commander. Too many paradigm shifts happened in between those two periods. It’s more like if we were-- had still been killing Native Americans up to the war.” said Hawkins.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“That still doesn’t work...” another civilian started, but got caught up in a flurry of voices.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Nothing even works for this! There aren’t </span>
  <em>
    <span>any</span>
  </em>
  <span> historical examples that apply to this!” the civilian scientist said loudly.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Your points have been heard.” Mrowka asserted.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>When the noise died down, she looked at Vang, “So has yours. Thank you.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The underlying “we’re fucked” fortunately went unsaid. The room went silent again.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Moreno drank from her cup. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Everything that comes out of my mouth right now has to be an inspiring speech. And I can’t be repetitive about it.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Alright, everyone. We know what exactly the situation is. We’re all tired, we’re all angry, we’re all grieving. Everything seems hopeless.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She shrugged, “Truth be told, I’m not sure how we’re going to get out of this in the end. But we don't have a choice. I know giving up seems appealing right now, but we </span>
  <em>
    <span>can’t</span>
  </em>
  <span>.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She gestured to the room at large, looking at the demoralized faces, “The last free human beings are represented in this room. We can’t let the hundreds of thousands of people counting on us, or the memories of our entire civilization die.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Moreno picked up a PDA, “There are a few things to give us hope, though. More than just the Principality. The Compact brainwashed our people, yes. They’ve taken away everything from them.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She put it back down, and sipped her cup, “But they also say humans don’t have the mental wherewithal for combat skills.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Moreno grinned predatorily, drained her cup, and set it down, with the old </span>
  <em>
    <span>Vanguard</span>
  </em>
  <span>’s badge in full view, “We have at least one thing going for us. They’re </span>
  <em>
    <span>afraid</span>
  </em>
  <span> of us. They’re </span>
  <em>
    <span>still</span>
  </em>
  
  <em>
    <span>afraid</span>
  </em>
  
  <em>
    <span>of us</span>
  </em>
  <span>!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She kept grinning, “They call us inferior, they call us insane, they call us primitive, but we bled them for ten years and..</span>
  <em>
    <span>.we killed a</span>
  </em>
  
  <em>
    <span>Kaiju</span>
  </em>
  <span>.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She touched a control, and a picture of a Compact Kaiju appeared, “We’re the people who brought one of these down, one of their ‘god ships’. We scared them so bad they tried to annihilate us, and it </span>
  <em>
    <span>didn’t work</span>
  </em>
  <span>. Look at us, look at Rally. They </span>
  <em>
    <span>failed</span>
  </em>
  <span>. It’s been two thousand years and they </span>
  <em>
    <span>still</span>
  </em>
  <span> don’t want to risk humans even being </span>
  <em>
    <span>close</span>
  </em>
  <span> to hurting them as we did. That’s how badly we hurt them!</span>
  <em>
    <span> They’re still afraid of us two thousand years later.</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Moreno laughed. She gestured to the room, “And </span>
  <em>
    <span>we’re </span>
  </em>
  <span>their worst nightmares. Because not only are we free stubborn humans, we’re the free stubborn humans who brought a Kaiju down. They’re afraid of brainwashed humans? Imagine what they’ll think of the </span>
  <em>
    <span>free and stubborn</span>
  </em>
  <span> humans who have come back from the grave for </span>
  <em>
    <span>revenge</span>
  </em>
  <span>.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She gestured to the pads, “We can’t submit to them. </span>
  <em>
    <span>We can win. </span>
  </em>
  <span>They want to control us, they want us to be good little servants, they want us to do everything humans do not do! They want us meek, they want us to take our abuse. They want us to forget how we hurt them. But so long as we’re alive, </span>
  <em>
    <span>we won’t</span>
  </em>
  <span>. </span>
  <em>
    <span>We can win</span>
  </em>
  <span>, so long as we keep fighting, keep resisting, and never stop until we knock em down and plant a flag in their collective asses! The United Earth Confederacy still lives in us. So long as we’re alive, humanity still has a chance! We'll find a place to stay, we'll find weapons and allies. We'll fight back, we </span>
  <em>
    <span>will</span>
  </em>
  <span> win..."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Admiral Moreno pointed at the hologram, "and we </span>
  <em>
    <span>will </span>
  </em>
  <span>get our people back."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Full-strength cheering finally erupted. There were cheers, applause, and battle cries, the last of the UEC ready for a long and unsteady road. They were the last free humans. They were the last Terrans. And they wouldn’t stop.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Admiral Moreno grinned predatorily. </span>
  <em>
    <span>I’m gonna be seeing </span>
  </em>
  <span>that</span>
  <em>
    <span> emailed to every computer by tonight…</span>
  </em>
  <span> Appealing to a healthy thirst for vengeance was a useful tool, so long as you didn’t go overboard on it and advocate for extermination. That’s what the Compact did. She wouldn’t so easily abandon her honor.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Captain Mrowka soon raised her voice, telling people to quiet down.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The admiral sat down. When everyone was silent, she said, “We’ve got a long road ahead of us, and we </span>
  <em>
    <span>will</span>
  </em>
  <span> make it. But we need to see our more immediate needs. We need to figure out what we’re going to do next.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Several suggestions were eventually teased out; shifting for the Principality, for deep space, dropping rocks on Compact worlds, and/or waging a guerilla war. One significant problem in all these plans, however, was fuel and resources. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Food wasn’t going to be a problem for a while. They had that in spades. Fleet Command knew whatever survivor fleets would be able to escape would have to run for a long time, and supplied several of the ships in the </span>
  <em>
    <span>Vanguard’s</span>
  </em>
  <span> care with additional life support and supply systems. Not all the fleet’s ships had these upgrades, but even a handful meant a few extra days for the fleet to run.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>However, they’d burned a lot of fuel fleeing the Compact, and their shift range was limited. They needed to resupply. And soon. Their fabricator ships had a supply of material resources, but that would change rapidly. There were only a few fabricators, the civilian ships would wear out faster than the military vessels, ammunition had to be resupplied, and there were only so many things they could cut corners on. If they wanted to run again, they had to stock up their bunkers.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The mining representative who’d spoken earlier raised a hand.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Moreno turned to her, “Yes, Miss…?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Wells, Latoya Wells.” the miner scratched her head, “This is going to sound crazy, but we have an idea. The fleet’s going to run low on supplies quickly. We can’t take any Compact ships in a fight, and trying to wander through enemy territory with peashooters isn’t going to end well. Trying to get any large amount of fuel is probably gonna end with us getting shot."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She scratched her head again, and gestured to her fellows, “So...we were thinking...what if we shift back...to the Kaedan Vault?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Everyone looked at her.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You said it was a dead zone, right?” she asked, looking at Lieutenant Halverson, “Nobody goes there? There are only a few outposts? And there’s a bunch of abandoned efforts?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Wells looked around, “I’m not saying we settle in Earth space, I’m saying we go back, mine, and loot whatever the Commies left lying around. We know where to find mining areas, and we can probably guess where they left their junk. There’s gotta be supplies and equipment they left lying around, gear we can use. Maybe even weapons. Even their equivalent of pop-guns we could probably mount to some of our ships. We’ve got a mobile drydock, don’t we? Refit...repair ship...station, whatever?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She gestured to one of the Auxiliary Fleet officers at the other end of the table, Commander Ade Afolabi. She commanded the UECNS </span>
  <em>
    <span>Hecla</span>
  </em>
  <span>, a fleet refit/repair station.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Commander Afolabi crossed her arms, “A </span>
  <em>
    <span>delicate </span>
  </em>
  <span>repair station. And we can only do so much with what we’ve got. Especially considering how much time has passed. Have you ever tried to put a railgun on a sailing ship?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“It’s a start at least, we don’t need to make </span>
  <em>
    <span>Vanguard</span>
  </em>
  <span> able to take on a kaiju,” Long pointed out, “We just need to be able to take on more than the equivalent of a Tribune standing in an escape pod with a handgun.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“But we’re just warping back into enemy space.” Sherman pointed out.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What about those outposts?” Senator Pearce asked, “If we have such a disparity in firepower, couldn’t they easily destroy us?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Uh...well, we thought of that. Since we know the terrain, we know where we can find fuel and minerals for our ships.” Wells pointed out, “There's not many outposts, and they're probably not monitoring </span>
  <em>
    <span>all</span>
  </em>
  <span> the good deposits, and since we know the terrain, we don't </span>
  <em>
    <span>have</span>
  </em>
  <span> to go near them. If we went to a system around here, we'd have to do a lot more scouting and make a lot more noise. So we lay low, avoid them, and get plenty of fuel to warp anywhere else we want to go. Just fill up our tanks and get moving again to someplace that’s safe. The outposts might even be able to give us a good spot. They have military records.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Those outposts may be less of a threat than we think,” one of her compatriots added, “Knowing bureaucracies, they’re probably understaffed, underequipped, and old junk. We could even steal some of their tech.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“That </span>
  <em>
    <span>would</span>
  </em>
  <span> still be military technology light-years ahead of our own,” Hawkins commented.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“But they’re going to sound the alarm when a million warp signatures pop in!” a civilian almost shouted.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"And they can still shoot us down!"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Look, I said it was a crazy idea…” Wells threw up her hands.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Not </span>
  <em>
    <span>that</span>
  </em>
  <span> crazy,” Holland said, holding up her index finger.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Colonel?” Mrowka asked.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“The salvage ship we picked up. It’s one of theirs, and as old as it is, its jump engines are still better than ours. So we send the salvage ship on ahead for recon, investigate the outposts, and report back.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Mrowka nodded, “Shifting straight there is going to be dangerous, and we could lose some ships along the way if we’re not careful. We could use the intel. It could give us more precise data. We’d lose fewer ships.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What about the outposts, though?” a civilian asked.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“We have the salvage ship find systems with a lot of mineral resources, but only a few outposts,” Holland said, “Then we pick the best one, board the outposts, and keep them from reporting in. That should buy us some time to get the supplies we need.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“We can do that, easy,” said Captain Kumar. Holland rolled her eyes.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“It’s a good point. We can fill up our tanks, and we won’t be limited by just what we’re burning right now.” Afolabi nodded.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“And it means we’ll have more time to make a better decision about what to do next,” Wells said.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“It’s too dangerous,” Sherman said, “They destroyed everything, they’ll roll out everything they’ve got at the first sign of a drone.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“They don’t even remember us!"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"And all it will take is one damned </span>
  <em>
    <span>tugboat</span>
  </em>
  <span> to wipe us out!"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Moreno looked at her mug again, considering their options. The admiralty has assigned her to the fleet. Regardless of the senator, she'd been the one who led them through thick and thin. They had a theoretical civilian authority at the moment, but many wouldn’t take it seriously as the supreme authority yet. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Senator Pearce had been a big help since The Launch. He’d kept people calm, negotiated with civilian skippers, and shown that </span>
  <em>
    <span>someone</span>
  </em>
  <span> other than the military knew what they were doing. But people would still think of Pearce as ‘the senator’. The fact that there was no one else left still hadn’t quite sunk in.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Like it or not, Moreno’s word would mean the way the wind blew. And she had to decide </span>
  <em>
    <span>now.</span>
  </em>
  <span> They were still arguing.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Her mind flashed to star charts of Earth space, wondering where they would stop first. Even if they made short hops back, the trip would be much faster than the way out because now they knew the territory, and the stolen Compact maps were much more accurate than theirs were. All bets were off once they made it…</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Home.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Slayton Colony hung in her mind’s eye. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Slayton...</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>
  <span>A statue of a man in an antique pressure suit, his helmet tucked under his arm, his eyes turned toward the spaceport, a smile on his face. The museum nearby. A photo of seven men in antique pressure suits, with scrawled signatures in ancient marker. A model of two crude spacecraft of wildly different designs docked together.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Men and women who flew in tiny capsules, who walked in the lunar dust. Men and women who faced the challenge, who reached up to touch the stars. Brave souls who rode in stasis on slow starships to wait out the years. The first shift drive. The lost Battle Fleet. Her friends, her comrades.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>In her mind, she looked back at the line of ancestors that stretched behind them, and the uncertain inheritors that stretched before them. They all looked at her. The last admiral. Their fates would rest on her orders.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Can we fly that ship?” Moreno asked. The room quieted.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Shouldn’t be too hard.” Captain Kumar said, “I bet even Marines could do it. Navy Swords can do that, easy.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She used the nickname for the Navy special forces, taken from the NSWO acronym.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Have you ever actually flown a Compact ship, Captain?” Colonel Holland hissed.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I have. Well, sort of. We had to hijack a small one to get off a colony.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Kumar looked around, “We’ve got the POWs to tell us which controls not to push. All we need are some pilots. My people know, or we can at least figure out how to talk to their guys when they get there. It’s the kind of operations we’ve run before. Trust me, we can do it with one hand tied behind our backs.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>There were murmurs from the others, wondering about the hazards.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Moreno looked at her mug. “Captain Kumar, you can have all the resources you need. I want that ship ready to fly ASAP.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She looked around, “We’re going back, everyone. It won’t be for long, but we’re going back to Confederate space.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Admiral Moreno grimaced, “It’s not home anymore. It will be again someday, but for right now, we’re just picking up some things.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She stood up, “We have a mission, and we have a plan. Let’s get to it, people."</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Asymmetric Warfare</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>The Vanguard goes back to what it does best. Irking the Compact.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Pack Leader Fahr didn’t get paid enough for this.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The Tribune rubbed his eyes and cursed the lack of stimulants. He’d been rousted out of bed for some salvage ship that needed a tow. That was what passed for excitement around here. Even the edge of the Kaedan Vault wasn’t very interesting. Hilnus Station 1199 wasn’t interesting.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The salvage ship had broken their life support systems and damaged their engines. He didn’t care enough to figure out how. The only reason he was awake was that they’d demanded to see the nearest senior officer. They’d been spooked by something, and they wanted some assurances. He fully intended to go back to sleep once the worthless salvage crew was settled.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Fahr watched the automated tug pull them in on an external camera, and thought of his soft rack. What could they possibly be spooked by out here? They weren’t even in the “interesting” part of the Kaedan Vault.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He remembered the rumors about the Broken, all that gossip about how they used to be a massive empire of bloodthirsty monsters that dominated the region…</span>
</p><p>
  <span>That was nonsense of course, but he always thought the stories were funny. No, humans were just another race that burned themselves out. They were the sort of thing that proved the Compact’s purpose; they would’ve died without their help.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The humans were plush toys, delicate little things. The rumors sounded like those bad horror films he saw when he was younger, with the living dolls. The thought of anything as tiny and delicate and fragile as a </span>
  <em>
    <span>human</span>
  </em>
  <span> possibly being a threat to a Tribune just made him laugh. It was like a doll threatening him with a knife.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>One of his predecessors thought the same. When Fahr first came to the outpost, he'd found a note on his desk held there by a small figurine. It was a little figure of a human dressed in a ridiculous getup; some sort of primitive body armor.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"</span>
  <em>
    <span>To whom it may concern: there's coffee in the bottom drawer, the chair is sticky, and the lights go out whenever they turn on the secondary scopes. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>And one of our predecessors found this in an old settlement in the asteroid belt. Don't tell Sector Command.</span>
  </em>
  <span>"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He didn’t know why the rest of the Kaedan Vault was quarantined, but how could it have anything to do with a bunch of morons who accidentally set their oceans on fire or whatever?</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Fahr had kept the figurine. It was old, with some damage, but it was charming. It made Hilnus a little less painful.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It would be a few minutes before the tug came in. Fahr rested his head against a wall and closed his eyes...</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Fahr was jostled awake when they achieved a hard dock. He shot to his feet as the door opened. He opened his mouth to welcome them...</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>And they emerged.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The pack leader’s brain locked up, and he had the strangest feeling. Many people do in times of crisis.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>His thought was back to that little figurine. They looked just like it. They were wearing the same equipment. They wore the same type of gear the toy did.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The party of armed </span>
  <em>
    <span>Broken </span>
  </em>
  <span>storming the outpost looked just like--</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>A rifle butt connected with his chin. He was out like a light.</span>
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The trooper, still holding their rifle like a baseball bat, quickly patted the puppy down for weapons or explosives, then gave a thumbs up to their compatriots.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The Navy Swords swept aboard the small station.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>A few technicians on their way to the docking port saw the invaders and froze. Rocket rifles coughed, and all three fell to the deck.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The Swords advanced.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The four targets in command were soon eliminated. One sitting in the head surrendered immediately. She thought they were her co-workers at first. Another on an EVA threw her tool bag straight up into space in her desperation to show she wasn't hostile and to surrender. Her partner’s remains fell into an orbit around the station.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The Swords were to kill everyone who wouldn't surrender and capture those who were asleep. Needless to say, the vengeful special forces team did not adhere to that perfectly.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>A soldier primed a grenade, threw it into one of the two sleeping berths, and pulled the door shut.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"</span>
  <em>
    <span>Lieutenant Junior Grade McWilliams</span>
  </em>
  <span>!" The lieutenant shouted over their suit radios. She stepped over and towered over him, “What were our orders?!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>McWilliam's eyes went wide. "I'm sorry, ma'am!"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>There was a pause. McWilliams gave her a strange look. "...force of habit."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>They still managed some prisoners. They assembled five tranquilized sleepers from the other berth, an unconscious pack leader, the surviving sectator from the head, and a Tribune still in her spacesuit. They had hoped to get half the crew alive.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Ten, eight, what's the difference?" McWilliams muttered.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>SOCOM had done many morally questionable things even before the war. It was how special operations worked. They didn't like the phrase "morally questionable" though. They preferred “thorough”.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Very </span>
  </em>
  <span>thorough.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>And in this war, many didn’t care what they did to the enemy.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Lieutenant Okafor, the team leader, thought it was the best haul of prisoners she'd gotten, proportional to the starting number of Commie troopers at least. Tribunes didn't like to surrender normally.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She put a hand to her headset, "Alpha six to Dogsled. We have the outpost."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Copy that. Sending in tech teams now.</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Okafor walked into the command deck. It was built like a typical Compact command deck had been two millennia before, with lavish positions for senior officers on a raised platform in the center, and junior officers crammed into whatever space they had left.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The facility was outdated and one of the smaller outposts in the Kaedan Vault. It lacked the huge number of messenger drones intelligence identified on outposts in several systems, though it still had a pretty unusual number. Those with the most courier drones only seemed to appear in places major human bases or colonies had been. Several of her Swords were busy removing the bodies.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Hey, Rosenberg! Next time try to aim better!” one hissed at another, “You blew this guy’s brains all over the computer! Do you have any idea how long it’ll take to clean?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“They’re waterproof! It’ll wash out!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Okafor walked up the steps to the center. She nearly tripped. She forgot the steps were a bit bigger than the UEC standard.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Okafor paused by one of her soldiers at one of the computers, “Murgia, are all the messengers accounted for?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The petty officer nodded, “Yes, ma’am. I double-checked, and I’ve got someone going down there for a visual check. They weren’t able to get off a distress call, and I trashed the comm systems.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>There was a small flutter in the deck.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Two down, two to go.</span>
  </em>
  <span>” Okafor’s radio crackled.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The lieutenant acknowledged the message. The team on the outer hull was destroying the physical comms arrays to avoid any deadman switches or automated systems they may have missed. Okafor nodded with satisfaction and walked up to the command chair in the center.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The controls hadn’t changed much since the last time she’d boarded a Commie ship. The visual scanners would be…</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Ah! There it is.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She found the right menu, “Dorsal...Ventral...Recon probes...Observers…there we go.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Two of the observers monitored dust clouds in the asteroid clusters around the system with a reconnaissance circuit that visited some other points. Another on a gas giant. Four in the Lagrange points around a planet in the mid-system area.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Horus II. It had been a marginally habitable, but valuable world. The equator had once held breathable air if you didn’t get too high above sea level. There had been plans before the war to thicken the atmosphere and increase the population. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lieutenant Okafor’s gaze narrowed. How many graves did the observers mark?</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Industrial centers, orbital mines, asteroid outposts, research stations, gas giant cities, Lagrange point colonies, dome settlements, solar-sailing ships…A list of machines, technology, and equipment needed for a spacefaring civilization. The things even a small system like this had boasted. Horus Colony.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>A list of military targets. A list of frozen graves. A list of victims. The dead of Horus Colony. Not Hilnus, but Horus.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Down in the docking port, one of the Swords was busy using a combat knife to scrape the name off an identification plate.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Okafor hadn’t even known this colony existed until the briefing the other day. It was so far on the edge of UEC space, and even it had been destroyed. Was there </span>
  <em>
    <span>anything</span>
  </em>
  <span> that survived except them? Did anyone except Rally make it? Did anything? What would they do? How would they…?</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Okafor's hand brushed against a side pocket of the oversized Tribune chair. It was a simple saddlebag affair. She opened it and peered inside.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>To her shock, she withdrew a toy. A </span>
  <em>
    <span>human </span>
  </em>
  <span>toy. It was a 30-centimeter action figure, barely a figurine for a Tribune but perfect for a human child. Her eyes were wide, and she smiled warmly.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It was a 30-centimeter figure of a UECN spec ops trooper from the dawn of the Confederacy, in the unification wars. Specifically from a cartoon about them fighting aliens. An action figure just like the one her daughter used to have. The poor kid lost hers in the evacuation.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Okafor blinked back tears and moved the toy's joints. Despite some damage from the years, it was surprisingly intact. It must've been in a crate all this time. It even still had its rifle and a few accessories. The Tribune boss must've stolen it from the remains of a cargo ship or something left in the system.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Her fist tightened. He'd </span>
  <em>
    <span>stolen </span>
  </em>
  <span>it. A damned graverobber. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Yet after all this time, a child's toy had survived. That certainly said </span>
  <em>
    <span>something </span>
  </em>
  <span>for their chances. Okafor smiled.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"What's that?" McWilliams asked as he walked up.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Okafor pulled out her pack, and carefully put the action figure inside.</span>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <span>"Something that'll make my daughter smile," she said, and touched her helmet, "Dogsled…"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She cleared her throat, "Dogsled this is Alpha six. How are we doing on those tech teams?"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>They had a few other outposts to check out. Luckily there were only a few in the Horus system. Once the team got the data they needed from the computers, they could destroy them at their leisure.</span>
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>
  <strong>
    <span>XXXXX</span>
  </strong>
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>
  <span>A few days later, a Compact messenger drone warped into the system the fleet hid in. Immediately </span>
  <em>
    <span>Vanguard</span>
  </em>
  <span> and </span>
  <em>
    <span>Canberra</span>
  </em>
  <span> locked their weapons on it until it broadcast the opening to the Greek story </span>
  <em>
    <span>Anabasis</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The courier drone carried SOCOM’s mission report, recovered intel, and announced that there were plenty of untapped fuel deposits available. However, there was an issue.</span>
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Ma'am? I have the Sword report on Commie patrol patterns."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Captain Mrowka looked at her XO, Commander James Rivera.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The officer had a grim look on his face and held out a datapad. "You’re not going to like it."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The captain took the pad and frowned. “Well, there’s no turning back now.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He sighed, "Yes ma’am."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She looked at him again, “What do you make of our chances?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“With our luck? The sun will somehow go nova before the enemy even gets there.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Mrowka nodded resignedly, “Sounds about right.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>They were quite a pair. One depressed and bitter, while the other was never happy. Figuring out which was the trouble.</span>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Mrowka only had to walk down a corridor to take the datapad to the admiral’s quarters. "They're proceeding as we expected. We’ve got a patrol ship coming in within a week."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Moreno looked at the pad. She looked at Mrowka, then back at the datapad.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Well, this is what we were expecting. Do you think we can still pull it off?"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Mrowka leaned on the desk, "If we were where and when we expected to be? Not a snowball's chance in hell. With these records…?"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The captain shrugged, "I can safely say Admiral, that this thing is at least right up our alley. They’re so obsessed with saving money, that they’ve got their warp emergences on a schedule, and a general location to avoid burning excess fuel."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She put it up on the admiral's holo tank. "We've got the exact coordinates, with a reasonable drift equation, and we’ve got days to plan. Everything should work in our favor."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Moreno nodded, "how about our drives? Can they handle it? Can we afford to risk our ships?"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"</span>
  <em>
    <span>Vanguard </span>
  </em>
  <span>and </span>
  <em>
    <span>Suffren</span>
  </em>
  <span> are the only ships that we can put into this and hope they’ll make it. We don't have a choice."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Moreno nodded, “That’s this whole war in a nutshell isn’t it?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She scratched her chin and idly looked at her LSCS-23 mug.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The admiral leveled a determined gaze to Mrowka, “What the hell. We’ll at least let them know they’ve been in a fight. Get us moving.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>
  <strong>
    <span>XXXXX</span>
  </strong>
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The patrol frigate </span>
  <em>
    <span>Curt</span>
  </em>
  <span> was an old machine. It had been upgraded over the centuries since its commissioning, but it was still a second-rate vessel designed to fill a patrol requirement. The crew frequently joked it hadn’t been scrapped because it wasn’t worth the cost of the fuel to fly it home.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Group Leader Ilsea could </span>
  <em>
    <span>almost</span>
  </em>
  <span> believe that. The Kaedan Vault patrols had firmly defined circuits, with shock coordinates in each system that they were to follow to the letter. They would make circuits of all the outposts in a star system, then jump to the next. These circuits would frequently change so pirates couldn’t predict their movements, but they were still ordered to enter a system at a certain point and leave at a certain point. These were </span>
  <em>
    <span>special</span>
  </em>
  <span> routes you see, carefully determined by the finest Space Force computers to burn the minimum amount of fuel without lack of patrol coverage.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>People like Ilsea wondered what variety of bunk </span>
  <em>
    <span>that</span>
  </em>
  <span> was. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Real</span>
  </em>
  <span> Space Force ships weren’t babysat like that. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Real</span>
  </em>
  <span> warships were just told to go point A to point B. To the rest of the Space Force, </span>
  <em>
    <span>Curt</span>
  </em>
  <span> was just an overgrown corporate patrol cutter. And they didn’t even get the benefits those fools did.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>They weren’t going anywhere unknown, they weren’t going to face some new foe. They were just going to pick up the mail. That’s all they did. That’s all they </span>
  <em>
    <span>ever </span>
  </em>
  <span>did. Talk to the outposts, deliver and receive mail, then shock off to the next one. Nothing ever happened.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Ilsea sighed. She didn’t know why she was out here. So she slept with </span>
  <em>
    <span>one</span>
  </em>
  <span> person she shouldn’t have, did that mean she had to be exiled to the middle of nowhere like this? She’d been on the command track to a ship on the Principality front, and now her career was at a dead stop.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Everybody </span>
  </em>
  <span>had indiscretions in their past. Why did it have to be </span>
  <em>
    <span>her</span>
  </em>
  <span>?</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>At least they were almost to the end of this circuit. They could go to that joke of a colony they spent leave at and drink away their pain before they had to start again. Just a few more shocks…</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Shocking in ten...nine...eight…” her navigation officer said, interrupting the group leader’s thoughts.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Ilsea wondered what kind of boredom awaited them. Maybe she could even have a passing conversation with Pack Leader Fahr. He seemed like a nice sort. She had to remember to ask him when he next had shore leave.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“...seven...six...five…”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It’s not like anyone would care.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“...four...three…”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Ilsea smiled happily at the thought. Just a few more shocks.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“...two...one!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>And they were off to another star.</span>
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>
  <span>When a ship shocks into a system, its scopes are briefly blinded for several minutes while it readjusts to the universe. It’s blind and defenseless. It’s why shocking in-system to an enemy-held system is considered almost suicidal. Shocking to the edge of a system, especially a friendly system? That’s simple. That’s easy. That’s harmless.</span>
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The </span>
  <em>
    <span>Curt</span>
  </em>
  <span> shuddered under dozens of impacts. Unsecured crewmembers were thrown about. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What the hell?” Ilsea snarled, “Navigation! What did we hit?!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Scopes are still offline! We’re where we were supposed to be, but-- Incoming!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The ship shuddered again. Scores of...impacts crashed into their shields.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>They weren’t ready. The shields weren’t ready. Their weapon crews weren’t ready. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Nothing</span>
  </em>
  <span> was ready. They couldn’t even </span>
  <em>
    <span>see</span>
  </em>
  <span> it!</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Visual scopes! Do we have visual scopes?!” Ilsea demanded.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Objects! Lots of objects, all around us! They look like a lot of debris, or asteroids, or...or…!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The ship shuddered again.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“We’ve got energy spikes! It’s coming from the debris!” another scope operator announced, “It’s all around us!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Ilsea’s eyes went wide. Asteroids, or...</span>
  <em>
    <span>a minefield.</span>
  </em>
  <span> Thousands of pieces of debris surrounded the small frigate, asteroids big and small, mixed in with hundreds of </span>
  <em>
    <span>mines</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Missile batteries of short-ranged and high-yield warheads launched their deadly cargo. Single-shot energy mounts fired and slowly recharged. Dozens of missiles were shot down by the small ship’s point-defense guns, or went off course, jammed by the enemy’s ECM, but the frigate was still unprepared.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Targeting platforms lit up the ship for the rest of the minefield and its masters. Missiles without mounts that had been left in open space lit their engines; every additional threat, no matter how minor, would eventually overwhelm </span>
  <em>
    <span>Curt’s</span>
  </em>
  <span> weapons and computers.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The crew didn’t wait for orders. They powered up weapons, shunted power to the shields, but not only were they surprised, they simply hadn’t trained often enough. They were in the middle of nowhere, why would they train like they were fighting the Principality? Pirates didn’t have the brains for it, Command didn’t believe the rumors about the mysterious disappearances, and nobody had a confirmed sighting of a Naiad for years.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The delay taken by their lack of practice, and even several crew freezing up, made a huge difference.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Ilsea was frozen with shock and horror. As their scopes came back online, more and more material became visible. This was a </span>
  <em>
    <span>massive </span>
  </em>
  <span>operation! Rumors and gossip ran through her mind. How could pirates get this much out here without being spotted?</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The energy weapons that were hitting them were low-yield, only in the tens of megatons, as were many of the missiles. The frigate could handle that. But several kinds of missiles had large yields that matched </span>
  <em>
    <span>Curt’s</span>
  </em>
  <span> batteries in force, and there was just </span>
  <em>
    <span>so much fire…</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Their shields could’ve taken it if the crew had been alert. They could've taken the fire if they’d been thinking. They could take it if they hadn’t been </span>
  <em>
    <span>blind and helpless</span>
  </em>
  <span>…</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The enemy was smart, they knew how to take advantage of every mistake they made, and they exploited every weakness. It couldn’t be pirates. They weren’t this clever. Who could be out here? Who could want to hurt them?</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Were they being stalked by a Naiad? Had the Principality found them?</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Ilsea was truly </span>
  <em>
    <span>frightened.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Group Leader! We’ve got a shock signature! It’s right on top of us! By the gods, are they insane?!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The scopes operator had just picked up the enemy ship when it was several light-minutes away. Or it had been. It was now so close they could probably see it visually. And it was </span>
  <em>
    <span>big</span>
  </em>
  <span>. It was bigger than a battlecruiser, it was…</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Group leader! It’s a </span>
  <em>
    <span>pocket battleship</span>
  </em>
  <span>! It’s gotta be! There’s a pocket battleship right on top of us!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Ilea’s blood ran cold. “F--F--fire missiles! Fire everything we’ve got! Spool up the shock drive and get us--!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The ship shuddered forward as if being pushed by enemy fire.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Enemy ship behind us! It looks like a heavy cruiser!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It was right in their blind spot. The precious seconds it took to bring power to the shields had made a difference. The crew who froze made a difference.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>But it wasn’t just the lack of discipline, it wasn’t incompetence. They were a green crew against a clever enemy, who knew their doctrine well and ran rings around the crew in experience and skill, even with inferior firepower.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The </span>
  <em>
    <span>Curt’s</span>
  </em>
  <span> biggest weapons turned to fire on the pocket battleship. They fired with hundreds of megatons of power.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“We hit the enemy shields, but we can’t tell if it was affected! Scopes are still recovering!” the tactical officer shouted, on the verge of hysteria.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Keep firing! Keep firing, damn it all--!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The </span>
  <em>
    <span>Curt </span>
  </em>
  <span>shuddered, and there were a series of explosions across the hull. Their screens flickered and died. Shield projectors blew across the ship. A handful of missiles knocked out half their direct fire weapons.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The pocket battleship fired its missiles and rolled in space to bring as many of her guns to bear as possible, avoid any delay afforded by reloading, and protected their screens from any return fire.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Even its biggest guns were mere popguns; they could only hit twenty megatons when the frigate’s batteries could reach hundreds. However the battleship had far more weapons in its main batteries alone than the frigate had direct-fire weapons in its entire arsenal, not to mention plenty of secondary and tertiary batteries, all focused directly onto one target.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The heavy cruiser added its fire. The minefield continued to fire. All focused on one target.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The Verrish had fought the Compact with 21st-century level technology forty years before; even after the loss of their lunar railguns, they had used missiles, orbital mirrors, and nuclear mines to damage if not destroy dozens of Compact ships.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Scores of missiles centuries more advanced than Verrish weaponry, designed with Compact doctrine in mind, outdated but still tipped with deadly warheads, tore through space toward their target. Dozens were shot down or jammed by the enemy’s ECM, but the frigate was still unprepared.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>If the Verrish could hurt them with such primitive weapons, even these ancient warheads could knock out an unprepared ship.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The </span>
  <em>
    <span>Curt</span>
  </em>
  <span>’s point-defense fell, and more missiles poured in, crippling the weakened vessel. A battleship main battery obliterated a point-defense gun that spat at a straggling missile.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Shock drive offline! Engines hit!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>They pummeled the frigate mercilessly. They never stopped firing. Even against the armor, their weapons were just popguns. But there was still so much fire. Not until the frigate's reactor finally ripped apart.</span>
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>
  <strong>
    <span>XXXXX</span>
  </strong>
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Enemy target destroyed.” the words were met with a cheer through the </span>
  <em>
    <span>Vanguard’s</span>
  </em>
  <span> command deck.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"They weren’t able to get any messenger drones off,” a sensor operator said, “We didn’t detect a launch.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Keep scanning, let’s be extra sure.” Commander Rivera ordered.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Let’s hope they haven’t found a way to deploy them without us detecting it,” Mrowka muttered.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She glanced at Admiral Moreno, “one down...”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Moreno nodded back, not finishing the thought.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She watched the feed of the remains of the crumpled ship. What remained looked like it had gone through a trash compactor. But it still held its general shape. Commie ships were still hard to kill.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The trap had worked like a charm. Disabling the outposts wasn’t enough. They’d known Compact ships would come into the system at some point, and they had to buy themselves time. They had all the patrol records from the outposts, and they knew when the enemy would arrive. Destroying the frigate bought themselves a few days, maybe even weeks for mining and to figure out where to go next. And all it had taken was almost every bit of their high-yield ordnance.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>They knew the enemy’s sensors would be blind, they knew where they would be, and they knew they’d be unprepared. This was the same sort of tactic they’d done before. Impossible odds were the Confederate Navy’s bread and butter. They'd set a minefield. They had ships drag asteroids in to fill out the minefield and obscure enemy sensors. They'd dumped not just every mine the </span>
  <em>
    <span>Suffren</span>
  </em>
  <span> and the </span>
  <em>
    <span>Vanguard</span>
  </em>
  <span> had, but almost all their heavy missiles into the operation. To kill a </span>
  <em>
    <span>frigate</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The </span>
  <em>
    <span>Vanguard's</span>
  </em>
  <span> biggest batteries could only reach twenty megatons. The enemy could reach into the hundreds at </span>
  <em>
    <span>minimum</span>
  </em>
  <span>. They estimated Commie battleship guns would go into the gigaton range. They didn’t even want to </span>
  <em>
    <span>think</span>
  </em>
  <span> about what a kaiju could load.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Confederate battleships mounted a handful of gigaton bombs. Compact ships, even when you could bring down their shields, were so hard to kill, and they’d been one of the weapons designed to level the playing field. What a joke. They'd sunk </span>
  <em>
    <span>one </span>
  </em>
  <span>gigaton warhead into this frigate. </span>
  <em>
    <span>One</span>
  </em>
  <span> that would've been enough to damage or destroy a division of frigates back in the day. It helped crack this one's shields. Their </span>
  <em>
    <span>shields.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>They used a gigaton warhead, most of their heavy missiles, the entire supply of mines from their heaviest ships, and the support of those ships. They'd had the element of surprise, and lured the enemy into the minefield. It was the same sort of strategy the </span>
  <em>
    <span>Agamemnon</span>
  </em>
  <span> had once used for the first Commie battleship destroyed in the war, one of their first major victories.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>And the </span>
  <em>
    <span>Vanguard</span>
  </em>
  <span> used the same strategy to kill a </span>
  <em>
    <span>frigate</span>
  </em>
  <span>. The enemy had a green crew in dead-end jobs with a worn-out warship, against a battle-hardened unit who were experts at asymmetrical warfare.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Were there any escape pods?" Moreno asked the captain softly, almost as an afterthought.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Rivera cocked his head when he overheard.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Mrowka blinked, then checked. "there was too much fire for any of them to even </span>
  <em>
    <span>try </span>
  </em>
  <span>getting off. We got them with all hands."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Saved us the trouble of trying to feed them," Rivera commented evenly.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Moreno nodded. At least there was that.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The enemy had no active ECM, hadn’t been able to fire any missiles, had an inexperienced crew, minimal shields, and they’d been in shock and awe. The Confederates had everything going in their favor. And the </span>
  <em>
    <span>Vanguard's</span>
  </em>
  <span> port shields had completely collapsed when the enemy managed that one volley. It had been only sheer luck that they’d punched through the shields but missed the hull. The </span>
  <em>
    <span>Vanguard’</span>
  </em>
  <span>s shields collapsed just like when the original had flown against the first Compact heavy cruiser of the war. And now they could lose to </span>
  <em>
    <span>frigates.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Captain Mrowka leaned forward in her chair, her hands together. She looked just as angry at the world as she always did. Her foot tapped against the floor.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>She's useless. </span>
  </em>
  <span>The captain thought.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Mrowka leaned back and closed her eyes. She hadn't gotten much sleep since they'd shifted in. She hadn’t gotten much before, either. She looked at the ceiling plates. She put a hand on the armrest.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>She's </span>
  </em>
  <span>useless</span>
  <em>
    <span>.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The firepower difference was more than just a strategic "challenge". It was a terminal illness for a warship. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Vanguard</span>
  </em>
  <span> had been to the doctor, gotten the tests of time, and they'd come back positive. With a big fat red "obsolete" stamped on the forms.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>There was a photo of the HMS </span>
  <em>
    <span>Vanguard</span>
  </em>
  <span> in the Captain's quarters. She'd been obsolete for her time too. She had been built just a little too late for her war, she'd wandered around for a while, and then been scrapped. The UECNS </span>
  <em>
    <span>Vanguard </span>
  </em>
  <span>might not even get </span>
  <em>
    <span>that</span>
  </em>
  <span> dignity.</span>
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She laughed and Moreno and Rivera jumped.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Mrowka kept laughing and managed to explain, "I wonder if we could </span>
  <em>
    <span>buy</span>
  </em>
  <strong>
    <em>
      
    </em>
  </strong>
  <span>our way to freedom. How much do you think they'd pay for </span>
  <em>
    <span>Vanguard</span>
  </em>
  <span> as a trophy?"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Rivera furrowed his brow, and deadpanned, "think we could buy Rally back with it?"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Moreno smiled a little out of the corner of her mouth and shook her head, “I don’t think we’d pull down enough after taxes. Then you </span>
  <em>
    <span>know</span>
  </em>
  <span> they’d get us for tax evasion.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The admiral put her hands together and watched the debris of the frigate drift. “Send a messenger back to the fleet. Tell them there’s enough fuel for everyone.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>
  <strong>
    <span>XXXXX</span>
  </strong>
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The </span>
  <em>
    <span>Armada</span>
  </em>
  <span> swept over Horus III, the system’s gas giant, making long slow orbits around specific inclinations. Their drones swept deep in the atmosphere following those patterns.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Commander Frye rubbed her eyes in exhaustion. They weren’t on a combat mission, they were on a salvage mission. The escort ships that weren’t serving as pickets were helping some civilian ships to find any remains of Horus Colony. Frye supposed the admiral also wanted her out of the way for a while.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>They needed every bit of refined metal, and even a few slivers would help. Even millennia later there were still many places where they could find deposits of fuel and materials, leftover from destroyed supply depots and mining rigs. More than that, they had to have a record of what happened. Horus Colony had to be remembered.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Most of the fleet, the transports, and the cargo ships, had a high orbit around Horus II. There were many small vessels across the system mining and refining fuel and resources. More explored Horus I, II, and IV. Throughout the system they’d found debris; old reactors, armor plating, unexploded munitions…And a few bodies, even after all this time. The </span>
  <em>
    <span>Armada</span>
  </em>
  <span> had searched for the remains of Horus III’s floating cities, research outposts, and mining rigs. And now they looked for military black boxes.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>During the war, there were black boxes specifically designed for orbital defense fortresses. The ones orbiting gas giants were designed to be fired deep into the planet's atmosphere when a fortress was compromised, just above the point they'd be crushed, for retrieval by friendly forces. In all likelihood, they had all been destroyed by centuries of neglect, but they had to be sure.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There weren’t any beacons on the boxes, at least none that functioned anymore. That wasn’t a dealbreaker, however. They could be found if you knew what to look for. That was part of the point. You didn’t want your black box stolen by the enemy, so there were protocols for shutting the beacons off depending on the situation.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>However, they’d checked most of the areas under the possible orbital inclinations of the old fortresses, and found nothing. Frye sighed. She didn’t think there’d be much left.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The Commies probably invented a new kind of drone just to hunt the black boxes. She imagined some sort of cartoon claw machine.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Skipper?” her XO, Lieutenant Commander Tyne, spoke up, “One of our drones just went offline around the north pole. No damage, no signal loss. It looks like it got shot down or something, but didn’t register any incoming fire.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Frye frowned, “That’s odd. Think it’s just a computer glitch?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“That’s what we thought, but ops doesn’t think so. He wants to send another one after it.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Frye raised an eyebrow, but shrugged, “Sure, why not. Maybe we got lucky. Who knows what’s lying around here. Heck, if it’s just a big deposit of something, we could use that.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Not that it’ll do much.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Frye didn’t think much about it for a while. She slept in the sea cabin next to the bridge and tried to update her log. Hopefully, it would keep her from “going nuts” again.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Nuts. I’m not nuts.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She was </span>
  <em>
    <span>angry</span>
  </em>
  <span>. There was a difference. She didn’t need to cool off, she wasn’t going to hurt anyone. No one with two eyes at least. She didn’t need a time-out, what she </span>
  <em>
    <span>needed</span>
  </em>
  <span> was a damned ship that would kill something.</span>
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Captain?” Tyne asked, sticking his head in the cabin, “Ops says we’ve picked up something at the north pole. We don't know what it is. Scanners say there’s nothing there, but Shirazi says there is.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Tyne grimaced, “...And he’s pretty damn insistent about it.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Frye furrowed her brow and got up. They both moved back onto the bridge. The sensors registered a blank cloud. Radar showed a gaseous cloud of hydrogen and helium. There were some anomalies, sure, but it was a gas giant.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’m telling you, there’s something in there!” Lieutenant Shirazi, their operations department head, spoke in earnest. He was busy arguing with their weapons division officer, Lieutenant Kadlec.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Shirazi, our records are two thousand years out of date--”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Stick to weapons, Kadlec,” Shirazi snarled, “I know what I’m talking about! There’s </span>
  <em>
    <span>something</span>
  </em>
  <span> there!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Captain on deck!” Tyne barked, and the bridge snapped to attention, including the now-flustered officers.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“At ease,” Frye said, and stepped into the argument, “Lieutenant Shirazi, use your words. The sensors say nothing’s there. Why are you so certain there is?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The younger officer grimaced, “Ma’am, I grew up on a colony around a gas giant. I know what I’m talking about. More than that, I know drones. My drone is still there. It’s not dead, it’s stuck in there somewhere. And that just doesn’t happen in that kind of cloud. We’re not in the right place for it to be </span>
  <em>
    <span>stuck</span>
  </em>
  <span>.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Frye was skeptical. “Lieutenant, are you sure? Couldn’t this just be a wild goose chase?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“No ma’am. This is </span>
  <em>
    <span>weird</span>
  </em>
  <span>.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Despite the rest of the crew’s misgivings, another drone was sent in. It went as silent as the first. A third went in this time set to move in then return automatically. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Most of the sensor data were garbage, but its cameras did find something. Inside the cloud was an object. A large object.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>There was a </span>
  <em>
    <span>space station</span>
  </em>
  <span> in the cloud. And the first drone was stuck to the side of it. Frye and her senior officers exchanged looks of shock.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“It must be jamming our transmissions,” Shirazi commented, “Someone doesn’t want us to find this thing. And it’s not one of ours. It wasn’t here during the war.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Frye smirked, “Sounds like the sort of thing we’d be interested in. Whoever built this thing is an enemy of the Compact if they’re hiding it here.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“How do we know it’s not a Compact facility?” Lieutenant Kadlec asked.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Because if it were, I’m betting we’d be dead by now. They would’ve sent a drone off to get a fleet when we first shifted in, and we wouldn’t have been able to detect the damn things.” Frye leaned forward in her seat, “No, this thing belongs to somebody else.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Tyne looked nervous, “Captain...we need to be careful. This sector of space </span>
  <em>
    <span>is</span>
  </em>
  <span> quarantined. Maybe this is whatever makes their ships disappear.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Frye looked at him. The look she gave him told the XO she hadn’t thought of that </span>
  <em>
    <span>at all</span>
  </em>
  <span>. She’d been full of greed. He wondered what exactly she hoped was in that facility.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Hail the </span>
  <em>
    <span>Vanguard</span>
  </em>
  <span>. Let’s make sure they know what we found.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Once they’d had an update with the fleet, Admiral Moreno authorized them to investigate further, but not on their own. The </span>
  <em>
    <span>Endurance </span>
  </em>
  <span>arrived to assist and deployed one of their more sensitive drones, designed for this sort of dangerous environment and with sophisticated sensor arrays. Sophisticated for 2,000 years ago.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The drone entered the cloud. It passed the </span>
  <em>
    <span>Armada</span>
  </em>
  <span>’s probes and gave them a course to follow back out of the dead zone. The drone approached the station. It picked up odd signals, and once it got into a certain range, communications arrays on the station angled toward it. They didn’t transmit. They seemed to want to receive something.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The drone retreated out of the cloud with its initial data and was sent back in for a more detailed analysis. Again the communication arrays angled toward the drone.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Hello? Who are you?</span>
  </em>
  <span> They seemed to ask. The drone did not reply.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It did a careful sweep of the station. Their sensors couldn’t penetrate it at all. They could barely pick it up. It played lights over the hull, scanning every centimeter.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It departed to deliver more data. The arrays followed it. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Hello? Who are you?</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The Confederate scientific staff analyzed the footage, they hoped they could find insignia or something. They certainly found that.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>There, on the hull was the United Earth Confederacy insignia.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Admiral, was there anything out here we should know about?</span>
  </em>
  <span>” Commander Hawkins asked when he transmitted the findings, “</span>
  <em>
    <span>Any secret projects?</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Moreno furrowed her brow, and shook her head, “No, there’s nothing.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Mrowka gave her a sidelong glance, “Are you sure, ma’am? How many black projects do you have in your head?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yes, I’m sure. I don’t know what that is, but that wasn’t here before.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Maybe the colony built it before the attack,</span>
  </em>
  <span>” Hawkins suggested.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“With ECM </span>
  <em>
    <span>that</span>
  </em>
  <span> good?” Mrowka asked, “I doubt it. It’s gotta be alien.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Why would aliens use our insignia?” Moreno mused.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“It’s gotta be some kind of trap. If we had ECM that good, somebody should’ve been able to survive. But there haven’t been any other humans except Rally.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Well, maybe we were wrong. Military Intelligence is an oxymoron. Maybe this was another plan for survival that they didn’t tell anyone about; so none of us could tell the Commies about it.</span>
  </em>
  <span>” Hawkins guessed.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Well then, why haven’t they contacted us?” Asked Mrowka.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>It could be a stasis station. Maybe their alarm clock’s busted.</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Hell, with our luck it’s probably become some sort of doomsday cult and they forgot the universe outside existed.” Mrowka groaned.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>They argued more about it but eventually decided to investigate. All the military captains gathered together to watch the returned footage in their briefing rooms. They appeared electronically to one another.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The </span>
  <em>
    <span>Endurance</span>
  </em>
  <span>’s probe deployed a subunit to a docking port. It was the same kind of universal port the </span>
  <em>
    <span>Vanguard</span>
  </em>
  <span> had. It had the same sort of controls. They sent a command signal, with standard encryption. It didn't respond. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>On a hunch, Admiral Moreno sent her personal ID codes. Even if this was some sort of black project, it should respond to an admiral's access code. That opened it. Whatever defense ciphers it had didn’t seem to activate for them. Could it be one of theirs?</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Moreno frowned when the footage came back to them. Horus Colony </span>
  <em>
    <span>definitely</span>
  </em>
  <span> shouldn’t have had anything like this. What was it?</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The subunit cycled the airlock and entered the facility. It was pressurized.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Suddenly their sensors started picking up signals. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Lots </span>
  </em>
  <span>of signals. Everything they expected from this sort of environment. They’d gotten past all the stealth systems.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Refined alloys. Warheads. Antimatter. Weapons. The cameras looked up, and up, and up. There was row upon row of crates, cargo pallets, and containers of all sizes. It was a warehouse. They had stumbled on a stealth supply depot stamped with the Confederate insignia.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The captains all looked at each other.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Jackpot,</span>
  </em>
  <span>” Hudgens said.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Ozymandias</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Nieves is really tired. Meanwhile, a Navy Sword unit collects intel. Just not the kind you want.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>The </span>
  <em>
    <span>Vanguard</span>
  </em>
  <span> sat amid the civilian fleet, in orbit around Horus III. Most kept their engines at a minimum, to await fuel from the refinery ships. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The </span>
  <em>
    <span>Hecla</span>
  </em>
  <span> stood near the battleship, a number of its docking ports, arms, and equipment extended. The battleship was the only ship that couldn’t fit inside the drydock, but the repair vessel was designed to accommodate such large warships. They couldn’t do a full refit, but they could do field modifications, basic repairs, and upgrades.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>There were large chunks of the hull taken out. The secondary batteries were being completely replaced, typically on a three-to-two ratio. Three batteries would be replaced by two larger ones. There were EVA teams at work on the tertiary armament, missile bays, and point defense systems. The </span>
  <em>
    <span>Suffren</span>
  </em>
  <span> was on the other side of the dock, while the </span>
  <em>
    <span>Hoel </span>
  </em>
  <span>and the </span>
  <em>
    <span>Hatsuyuki</span>
  </em>
  <span> were inside the dock itself.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Moreno watched the work from one of the </span>
  <em>
    <span>Vanguard’s</span>
  </em>
  <span> observation decks. The rest of the room was empty. Nobody wanted to walk in on an officer when she was brooding.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>They still couldn’t figure out who made the station. It </span>
  <em>
    <span>was</span>
  </em>
  <span> stamped with Confederate insignia though, that much was true. But they didn’t know anything else. Inside, they’d found tons and tons of ammunition, raw materials, and spare parts, up to and including replacement gun batteries; directed-energy weapons, and kinetic weapons. Energy mounts and railguns that were very similar to the </span>
  <em>
    <span>Vanguard’s </span>
  </em>
  <span>secondary batteries. They were among the most powerful they’d ever seen. Computer analysis(and a test run that blew a dozen relays) estimated they had an output greater than some Compact cruisers. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Modern</span>
  </em>
  <span> Compact cruisers.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>These were </span>
  <em>
    <span>gigaton</span>
  </em>
  <span> energy mounts. And they were compatible with </span>
  <em>
    <span>Vanguard's </span>
  </em>
  <span>systems. Some of the missiles the station had were bigger than Confederate space fortresses carried. The armor plating looked as tough as a Kaiju had once been. The sensor arrays, fire control, and computer systems...even basic parts from thrusters to life support were more advanced. They would’ve killed for this stuff back in the day. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The drones they found crammed wherever they could fit were the most sophisticated things the techs had ever seen, and of such variety. Many looked like Marine power armor without the operator, others ranged from forklifts to tanks, to spider machines, to a variety of repair machines, right down to what looked like upgraded chigger robots.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>They had to do a computer analysis on almost every part. There were no manuals anywhere in the systems. They had to find specifications for the equipment from the memory of the repair drones. The only computers aboard were simple equipment for stationkeeping and to monitor internal conditions. They had no idea what the design process for the systems was. And there was still more equipment they had to identify. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>While the construction was a mystery, whoever built it had done all the paperwork. The equipment had serial numbers and an unidentifiable maker’s mark. The model numbers were loosely linked to the equipment the human flotilla had, but much further along. A railgun projectile from the </span>
  <em>
    <span>Vanguard</span>
  </em>
  <span> for instance would be a model B type(as part of an extremely long code of course), while one from the platform would be model J.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Whoever this platform was built for, they used Confederate tech and appeared to intend for it to be used by Confederate forces. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Nevertheless, they had technicians go over every bit of code that they could. They checked for every kind of trojan horse they could think of. They couldn’t find a single trap of any kind. At least, that they could recognize. The computers were extremely advanced and if there was some special secret trojan horse, the techs didn’t know if they could find it. They didn’t have much choice in using it anyway. If they didn’t upgrade their equipment they’d be dead. And the new gear was certainly tantalizing. This was the best thing that could have happened to them. Every bit was a huge advancement for the fleet.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The </span>
  <em>
    <span>Hecla</span>
  </em>
  <span> was in the process of replacing a large number of the </span>
  <em>
    <span>Vanguard’s</span>
  </em>
  <span> secondary and tertiary armament. They’d expanded missile bays to accommodate new weapons. They slotted in computer parts, sensors, and fire control systems that were a dramatic upgrade. Their ranges, sensitivity, and speed were greatly improved. Their ECM could both better jam enemy systems and clear up their own. Scratch that, their ECM </span>
  <em>
    <span>worked</span>
  </em>
  <span> again.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They’d found reactor parts that could be modified for their power cores, and enhance their performance. Their shields were practically a hundred times stronger than their old ones, and their armor plating even applied to the outer hull without significant changes to the superstructure, could outdo many Compact warships from back in the day.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Their secondary batteries could now deliver hundreds of megatons of power, potentially up to a gigaton or more. They hadn’t done a live-fire test, yet, but even minimal performance would be better than nothing.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>However, despite this huge boon, the </span>
  <em>
    <span>Vanguard</span>
  </em>
  <span> was the only ship that could accept most of the upgrades. They could apply armor, drones, and a few missiles to the rest of the military flotilla, but they were from a previous generation of warships than the </span>
  <em>
    <span>Ifrit</span>
  </em>
  <span>-class battleship.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The </span>
  <em>
    <span>Ifrit</span>
  </em>
  <span>-class had been part of a new generation of ships built to combat the Compact. A lot of their equipment was designed to be universal, but there was only so much that could be used on the older ships. The new ships had had so many more demands than the older vessels, from power to sheer size. They had to brute-force their way to superior performance with oversized weaponry, oversized engines, and oversized computers, and be built to accept new upgrades. Swapping components between generations became more difficult; it was like how laptop power cords had once changed every few generations as system demands changed.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Most of the parts aboard the station were designed for the new gear. And they only just barely matched. To make matters worse, there were many systems they couldn’t even apply to </span>
  <em>
    <span>Vanguard</span>
  </em>
  <span>. The railguns and energy weapons were oversized and larger than their original secondary batteries, however, they still could(barely) be installed in their locations. But they weren’t anywhere near the size of her main batteries, and couldn’t replace them. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The new secondary batteries greatly outranged the old main batteries. In addition to providing most of their firepower, the new weapons would have to serve in the heavy hitter role. Many of the missiles were too big even for her, and some of the computers, sensors, and targeting arrays lacked crucial parts they could find no trace of on the station. Some sort of high-level master computer, the techs said. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>They also didn’t have the construction information to manufacture more equipment or to modify it without catastrophic results. While they could figure out how to slot the guns in, they barely even understood how it worked.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Moreno grimaced at the memory of how they’d gotten several systems to work. They’d activated some of the new chiggers for a test run. Somehow they got loose, and there was a panic when they disappeared into the maintenance accessways. The Marines found them at work on the portside fire control. A quick-thinking gunnery officer called the troops off before the chiggers could be destroyed after she found her invariably-glitchy battery passed muster on the first try. They now employed the units to improvise connections between the old and new hardware. But without the proper documents and schematics, let alone a proper yard and years of work, there was a significant limit to their capabilities.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The power draw of the new systems was enormous to boot. The </span>
  <em>
    <span>Vanguard</span>
  </em>
  <span> had plenty, but even with the upgrades, they could only supply a small fraction of what the new secondary batteries could handle. The case was the same with shields, sensors, and computers. They didn’t have the yard capability to do significant structural reinforcement, which would require cutting the hull open, and the upgraded ships were still quite fragile compared to Commie vessels.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>They could take on escort ships again. Maybe, they could engage</span>
  <em>
    
  </em>
  <span>a scout cruiser, or perhaps a light cruiser, if they were lucky, and they had time to prepare. But more than one light cruiser, or anything heavier? Not a chance. And especially not any with the latest Compact hardware.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Moreno watched the </span>
  <em>
    <span>Hecla</span>
  </em>
  <span> do what it could. Even the bare minimum, being able to dish out hundreds of megatons from their secondaries, was an improvement.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>But something bothered her. Whoever built the platform had left the strangest clue. No answers, but a clue. Moreno looked at the pad in her hand.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Impactors.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>There were five </span>
  <em>
    <span>impactor rounds</span>
  </em>
  <span> aboard the munitions platform. Either the mass driver testbeds that hadn't been designed to leave Sol were hanging around…</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Or there was something else out there. Something with the same class of mass driver as a </span>
  <em>
    <span>Nemesis</span>
  </em>
  <span>-class dreadnought.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Most people who’d been in contact with Earth before the Fall remembered the rumors the year before, of a new breed of warship leagues above even the </span>
  <em>
    <span>Ifrit</span>
  </em>
  <span>-class. Scuttlebutt about powerful ships had existed since the war started. Many were proven with the announcement of the </span>
  <em>
    <span>Nemesis’</span>
  </em>
  <span> fleet trials, and the Deep Space Engagement Vessel’s first major operational deployment.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>They </span>
  </em>
  <span>should have been able to turn the tide, to buy Earth time to win, to rebuild the fleet, to build new weapons, or at the very least broker peace. </span>
  <em>
    <span>It</span>
  </em>
  <span> should have been able to turn the tide. Because only the </span>
  <em>
    <span>Nemesis</span>
  </em>
  <span> was completed.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Even with the announcements, however, few knew the complete specs of the </span>
  <em>
    <span>Nemesis-</span>
  </em>
  <span>class. Moreno knew them, however, and was one of the few in the </span>
  <em>
    <span>Vanguard </span>
  </em>
  <span>fleet who could recognize how special these impactors were. Red One was gone. Red Two and Three were destroyed at Lunar Prime. There was nothing else that could fire impactors. Where did these things come from?</span>
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Moreno had had a conversation with Red Three once, attached to UECNS</span>
  <em>
    <span> Athena</span>
  </em>
  <span>. She had been a bit stilted, as young AI were said to be. She’d been pleasant to talk to though, like an academy rookie eager to please and always at attention.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>If there had been more time, she’d heard scuttlebutt that Red Three might have been assigned to her fleet. If she wasn't called upon to make a desperate last stand to defend Earth or one of the inner colonies.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The entire Confederate Navy was assessed for the escape fleet projects, to determine which class of vessels would be worth using or they would have to scrap for parts along the way.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The </span>
  <em>
    <span>Nemesis</span>
  </em>
  <span>-class warships were considered a vital part of the escape fleet projects by fleet planners. They were never meant as arks, their munitions would be exhausted after an engagement with a large enough Compact fleet, but they could destroy all but the most determined pursuers, and their sheer durability would mean they had a high chance of survival over other warships. Their technology would be vital for bootstrapping their way back to a fighting force capable of overcoming the Compact. Their Breach cores could be used for any kind of foreseeable weapons technology, their AI for the calculations needed for technological development, especially with the much-smaller brain trust the escape fleets would have.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>That never happened, of course. The </span>
  <em>
    <span>Nemesis</span>
  </em>
  <span>-class was stillborn. The Admiralty assumed Task Force 97 had been unable to stop the Compact from learning the location of Earth. However, intelligence concluded they’d been successful in destroying the kaiju before they were destroyed. Why else would the enemy have been so angry?</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Who built these impactors? Moreno knew the Compact didn’t use these. If they could match the capability of impactors they’d trumpet that from the rooftops. And a displacement engine…?</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The Principality could’ve used it. But why use Confederate insignia, Confederate bureaucracy, even Confederate measurements?</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Could Hawkins have been right? Were there other human factions out there? Was there someone still fighting a guerilla war out there? It was too much to hope for. But...she admitted it was </span>
  <em>
    <span>possible</span>
  </em>
  <span>. If Rally had made it, and the fleet had made it, surely someone else could have. And it </span>
  <em>
    <span>had</span>
  </em>
  <span> been two thousand years.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>So maybe Reds Four through Nine had been completed somewhere else, by another evacuation fleet that had succeeded. But why weren’t there any manuals?</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Whoever the platform belonged to, the fleet needed to find them and fast. Moreno grimaced. Where would they start? Out of Compact territory would be one. But which direction? They needed intel, and they needed somewhere else to go.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>They were almost fueled up. They’d need to go around and pick up the ships they’d sent out to recover abandoned Compact supplies. Once they got them, they’d move out of the Vault, and head beyond Commie space. Maybe they could search for their mysterious patrons.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Moreno sighed and scratched her head. She wondered how many black projects there were she didn’t know about. How many black projects did she </span>
  <em>
    <span>know </span>
  </em>
  <span>about?</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She had a brief moment of anxiety and terror. The only copies of even the slightest details of every other black project Earth were now in the fleet’s highly-secure data banks and...her head.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Most records wouldn't have survived the invasion. Even the stuff the Compact might have recovered couldn't have told them everything. The techs would’ve burned whatever they could before the end. She wondered how much a Triarch would pay to get the secrets of a dead nation. They were hypocritical bastards. She bet they would love to either ensure their propaganda was right, and that humans were truly “primitive”, or steal the few scientific advances that humans made over them. They'd probably want even her limited knowledge on the Displacement Engine.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>What would it be? Interrogation? Or had they found out how to invent mind probes? Knowing the Compact they'd probably rip her brain out and plug it into a computer.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Or they might just do it for fun. The last human admiral, wouldn't that be a nice trophy? They might keep her alive in cryo, a museum piece in the corner of some Triarch’s mansion.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Moreno wondered if she should keep a needler on her. Not for boarders, but to keep everything out of their hands. Or sooner.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Moreno grimaced. A brief intrusive thought that came and went, but it frightened her. Hell, everything scared her right now. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It occupied every waking thought, every dream, every second of her life. The same fear the rest of the crew had, the entire fleet had, but were relying on her to deal with. But any soldier who wasn't scared was dead or stupid, as an old chief petty officer once said.</span>
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Moreno looked at the ships outside. At Horus III. She looked at the paperwork scattered over a nearby table.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The plans for escape fleets had been numerous and varied. Some were conventional, and others more complex. None of the more ambitious plans could take off, they were too expensive and too outdated. Earth didn't have much left to throw at the problem by the time the Kaiju hit.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She'd heard some pretty exotic ideas too. Sub-light seed ships to wait out the years, make a fleet to find some distant world to hide on, and avoid emitting electromagnetic signals until the enemy sweeps passed by, a run to find allies before time was up, things like that. She wondered how many of those had been sent off. As expensive as they might be, a few ships must've fled to do just that. They were probably all hunted down, starved, or bumped into something nasty.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Plans like the </span>
  <em>
    <span>Vanguard</span>
  </em>
  <span>’s fleet were relatively inexpensive. While Earth had few resources left, conventional ships were something they had plenty of. All they needed were a few supercomputers.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Unfortunately, before even their plan could be finished Earth was hit, and they'd had to leave without all their preparations made.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>But </span>
  <em>
    <span>she'd</span>
  </em>
  <span> been one of the preparations they had made. At least, the admiral hoped she was.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Staff shortages had been at critical levels. Even the Admiralty felt the pinch. Several of their best went down with their ships. Did the true selection go down with the rest of the Battle Fleet?</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The door abruptly opened.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"</span>
  <strong>
    <em>
      <span>We'll build a new tomorrow, we're the pioneers of Mars…</span>
    </em>
  </strong>
  <span>"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Captain Mrowka walked in. She hummed a tune well-known to the inner colonies; the unofficial Martian anthem. She spotted the admiral and nodded to her. Moreno nodded back. A lot of the old songs kept being sung around the corridors lately.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>One would think God Lives on Terra</span>
  </em>
  <span>, </span>
  <em>
    <span>The Green Hills of Earth</span>
  </em>
  <span>, </span>
  <em>
    <span>Trava U Doma</span>
  </em>
  <span>, and so many others would be unpopular. They'd made more than one person quite upset. But they sang them anyway.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>There were a few videos on the fleet’s data net, of people on the civilian starships. They sang loud in defiance of the silent void. It was in memory of what was lost. Of </span>
  <em>
    <span>who </span>
  </em>
  <span>was lost.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"</span>
  <strong>
    <em>
      <span>And I think it's gonna be a long long time till touchdown brings me round again to find, I'm not the man they think I am at home…</span>
    </em>
  </strong>
  <span>" Moreno hummed softly herself.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Mrowka stopped singing and raised an eyebrow, “Ma’am?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Moreno turned, and leaned against the window, “Just thinking about home.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Mrowka nodded. She sat down at one of the tables and looked out at Horus III. "Me too. You know, Jupiter used to be so pretty this time of night."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Moreno looked at her quizzically.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Mrowka checked her watch, then gestured to Horus III, "about this time of night, this time of year, Jupiter should be rising above Syria Planum right about now."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You could see Jupiter from Mars?” Moreno asked.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Like a dot. A </span>
  <em>
    <span>big</span>
  </em>
  <span> dot. You could even see details with binoculars,” Mrowka crossed her arms, "I wonder if the red spot is still going."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She frowned, "Phobos is probably gone."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Moreno grimaced, “They had a lot of artillery mounted there.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Mrowka looked to the side. “Yeah. It’s always been there. Since the invention of the shift drive.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Moreno nodded, “They had a couple of museums before the war, for that era. I visited a few during the academy.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Mrowka smiled a little, “I always wanted to see them when I was a kid. Never got the chance though.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Well, there’s always VR.” Moreno spread her hands, then dropped them and started pacing.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Something on your mind?” Mrowka asked.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Moreno looked out at the stars. “It’s funny. I'm wondering what would have happened if we hadn't demilitarized so much before the war."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Mrowka raised an eyebrow. The fleet had groaned about that for the last ten years. She doubted it would stop until the sun exploded.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"We would've been a bigger speedbump, but we probably wouldn't have been able to stop them. We were screwed six ways to Sunday from the start. It was just a matter of how bad."</span>
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The door opened again, and Colonel Holland walked in with a tray of food. She froze on a bite of a sandwich. She looked at the admiral and the captain awkwardly, and swallowed, "Am I interrupting something?"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Mrowka looked at the admiral, "I don't think so."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Good. The last observation deck had two squids making out." Holland took a seat and went to town on her sandwich.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Already? Christ…" Mrowka muttered.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Holland snorted, "Mrowka, you've got nearly 85,000 people in this tub who just lost everything less than a year ago. If you're surprised this is happening...I'm sorry do you not understand basic math?"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Don't </span>
  <em>
    <span>you </span>
  </em>
  <span>understand we're on controlled rations?" Mrowka said, pointing at the Colonel's food.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Well, they were out of fresh human blood, Martian. I had to make up a calorie difference." Holland chuckled.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Mrowka glared at her, "I mean, you're not doing anything lately. You don't need to keep up the same amount, do you?"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Well if we get boarded it's my ass on the line. I need to keep up my strength."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You’re not going to survive a fistfight with a Tribune.” Mrowka gestured dismissively.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Holland smirked, “You never know. I’d like to try it again.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Moreno continued to pace.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Holland took another bite of her sandwich. "Ma'am."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Colonel." The admiral nodded.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The Marine looked out the window, then between the other two officers. "So...did I interrupt something?"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Mrowka glanced at the admiral, "just the Battle Fleet debate again."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Holland raised an eyebrow, "hoo boy. That's a fun topic."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She shrugged, and looked at a potato chip in her hand, "infantry got all the new gear back then, so my perspective is a bit biased. But I think it was a bit of a damned if you do, damned if you don't situation. Either beat the swords into plowshares or have the military-industrial complex. At least that's what politics were back then, right? Think about what would have happened had they come a few years later and we had a big navy. That probably would've meant some of those splinter states were a lot bigger, and we would've been infighting. I mean we got on a war footing pretty quickly, but we still had a ton of arguing and bullshit without all that..."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Holland grimaced at the potato chip, "hope we don't run out of these too soon…so think about how much harder it would’ve been without the unity we had."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Moreno nodded, "military-industrial complex... that's certainly part of it. I'm thinking about it earlier than just before the war though."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"How early?"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"1980." Moreno scowled.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Holland raised an eyebrow again, "huh?"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Mrowka looked at her, "admiral?"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"We should've been on Mars by then. We should've had children born on the moon by 2000. We should've been out here in the 22nd century, not the 48th. We should've been...we should've been…"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She shook her head, "it took the god-damned</span>
  <em>
    <span> Red Death</span>
  </em>
  <span> to get us out here. It took the deaths of millions just to get us into space, a century late. And what happens? Because those 20th-century morons decided they had some little war to fight, some stupid bit of nonsense that was more important than space travel, we didn’t have the numbers or the technology to win. Because of what they did, we had to die."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Moreno stopped, and put a hand on the wall, "They killed us all. Those bastards. They killed us all. We had to die for their mistakes."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Admiral..."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Moreno moved over to the table the others sat at and sat down herself.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She put her hands together, “We’re the last senior officers of our services. I’m not going to throw together any promotions just yet, but we need to be aware of that.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The look she gave the other two told them she knew what kind of protocols she’d briefly broken. The counselors in the fleet were extremely overworked, and she had few if any, peers she could talk to.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Mrowka frowned, “Admiral, they didn’t know any more than we knew before the war. If we go on blaming people that far back, we’ll go back ten thousand years before we’re done.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Moreno nodded, “Yeah. Yes, I know. I’m not even mad about them, I guess.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“It’s understandable,” Mrowka said, “I mean there are so many missed opportunities in the past, but what’s done is done.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Unless we can figure out a backward time machine,” Holland said.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Moreno nodded. Her head felt heavy. “Pardon me, you two. I just haven’t gotten much sleep lately.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Who had these days? She didn’t know how they were going to get out of this. Loyalty to a dead world, dead homes, and dead families would only go so far. She trusted the crew, and she doubted anyone </span>
  <em>
    <span>wanted</span>
  </em>
  <span> to surrender to the Compact, but people were strange. They could stand like mountains or crumble like a twig.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>How could they live? How could they even survive? Were the living going to envy the dead? Surrender wasn't an option. No one as dishonorable as the Compact would respect them. Sooner or later they'd be destroyed and their efforts erased if they did try to surrender.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“As bad as it seems, we’re not going to give up,” Mrowka said suddenly.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Moreno looked at her.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The captain gave her a determined gaze, “Look, I may be one pessimistic SOB, but I’m not giving up anytime soon. We can’t surrender, but more than that, we </span>
  <em>
    <span>won’t</span>
  </em>
  <span> surrender. The president tried that, and it didn’t work.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Moreno nodded weakly.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“There </span>
  <em>
    <span>had</span>
  </em>
  <span> to be a way to beat them,” Mrowka said earnestly, “War isn’t measured in just the size of your gun.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You say that…” Holland commented.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Mrowka looked at her, “You’re kind of proof of this. By all rights, they should’ve steamrolled us in a stand-up fight, and orbital superiority should have kept the infantry down, but it didn’t happen that way, did it? We held out for a decade, against ships with ten times our firepower, and when we ran out of ships you fought them for every millimeter of dirt. We should've lost in a year, but we didn't. We dug in, and held on.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She looked at Moreno, “We may not be able to win in a straight-up fight, but there are other ways of fighting. I thought the admiralty didn’t believe in a no-win scenario.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Had those all just been words during the fleet meeting? Did she believe it? Or had she just been lying?</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Moreno tilted her head a little, then shook her head, “You’re right, we don’t.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Mrowka gestured at her, with a hint of a grin, “So there’s got to be a way out of this.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Holland nodded, “Getting help seems like the best option. At the very least some extra bullet-stoppers.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Moreno grimaced, “That’s what ONI’s been working on, Colonel.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She looked between them, “The Principality seems to be our best option long-term. We could try diving into uncharted space, but anything could happen out there. These guys on the other hand, while they’re losing, they’re much bigger than we are...were, and they’re still holding out even after all this time.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Holland sighed, “Even if they sat on their fat asses during the war.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“They’re still good for a meat shield…” Mrowka muttered, “And we could at least use them to make it to the other side of their territory, get them between us and the Commies, and we could use their maps to find a new home.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Moreno nodded, “Maybe we can find a bigger fish than the Compact.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Maybe we can find their evil twin,” Holland suggested.</span>
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>
  <strong>
    <span>XXXXX</span>
  </strong>
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The salvage ship </span>
  <em>
    <span>Bulk Discount</span>
  </em>
  <span>, codenamed Dogsled, was several star systems away from the rest of the fleet. They had found the nearest starbase in the Kaedan Vault that was more than just an outpost. It was a way station, frequented by outpost staff for what passed for leave around the vault. It was corrupt, a wretched hive. And perfect for intel.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Lieutenant Okafor and her platoon, dressed in non-descript clothes, had spread out across the station. They were trained for infiltration, and this sort of operation was something they were all familiar with. They could be subtle, they were observant, and they all could speak at least an outdated form of Compact Standard. They used computer translators to catch up, which didn’t raise too many suspicions among the aliens. They passed themselves off as private military contractors. Not too many of the aliens seemed surprised by that either. They got a few eyebrows for being Broken.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The lieutenant stood in one of the station’s bars. The bartender, a member of some Compact client species, a lizard, barely spared a glance at her. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Haven’t seen a Broken in here for a while.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Okafor shrugged, “I haven’t seen something like you in a while myself. You got anything humans can drink?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’ll check. Might have to check the computer. There’s a lot of wine that might work, though.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Okafor nodded, “Thanks.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>For some reason, that almost confused the bartender; he raised the lizard equivalent of an eyebrow. Nevertheless, he went around to a room behind the bar.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“How many people do you get in here usually?” Okafor asked. There were few other patrons in the bar at the moment.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“It’s early,” the bartender said loudly from the back room, “We usually get a few dozen though. It’s just the start of the night cycle.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Do you get many Space Force people?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Once in a while. Sometimes we’ll get one of the sector capital ships, but nothing too exciting. Saves my bill for damages, I’ll tell you that. I used to work on a fleet base. And when the Janissaries came in? I swear, the number of chairs they smashed...”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The bartender came out with a dusty bottle, “Here’s something. It’s…it’s...”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He shrugged and poured it out into a cup, “It’s green.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Okafor scanned the drink for any major toxins, found none, and sniffed it herself. She sipped it. It was strong, not very delicious, but it was different.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Have you heard any interesting stories lately?” she asked, “I haven’t been this way in a while. I heard the vault’s full of stuff.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The bartender shrugged, “If anything happens, it doesn’t happen here. They say ships disappear, colonies disappear, companies go bankrupt, but I don’t think anything’s happened here since they put the station in.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Okafor looked to the side, “That is odd.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The bartender leaned on the bar, “It’s weird! There’s a bunch of valuable minerals in this system, but no one wants it. Just a stupid superstition, you ask me, but nobody asks me…”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He trailed off and looked up behind the lieutenant. His eyes widened. Okafor felt a hand on her shoulder. She was physically lifted off her seat and put to the side.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>A Tribune Space Force soldier took her seat. He hadn’t even stopped talking to his buddies.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Without hesitation, she patted his shoulder hard, "Excuse me, that's my seat."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The Tribune looked at her, then back to his friends.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"</span>
  <em>
    <span>Excuse me.</span>
  </em>
  <span>"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The Tribune turned to look at her, "what do you want, Human?"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"That's my seat, dog-food-breath." She said in a low voice, "I'd like it back, please."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He looked at his friends, then back at her, "run home, Broken. This is mine now."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"It's mine, or we're going to have trouble."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The Tribune narrowed his gaze and stood up to his full height. He glared down at her, "you got some kind of problem, </span>
  <em>
    <span>Broken</span>
  </em>
  <span>?"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She glared back at him. Okafor opened her jacket and revealed the pistol at her side.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The Tribune looked surprised, "you? You...you wouldn't dare."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"In a </span>
  <em>
    <span>heartbeat</span>
  </em>
  <span>, </span>
  <em>
    <span>puppy</span>
  </em>
  <span>," she hissed, "now are you going to die over a drink?"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The soldier stared at her.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Then he burst out laughing.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Hah! You're alright, human!"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He grabbed her by the shoulder again and plunked her right back on her seat. The Tribune took a seat beside her, and patted her hard on the shoulder, "Hey guys, this animal wanted her seat back! She's tough, I wouldn't argue with her!"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The others laughed, and noted she barely even flinched at the Tribune's touch, "what'd she say?"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"She's not like the other Broken, she's tough!"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“If you don’t get your hand off me I’ll break it off,” she said calmly.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The Tribune laughed again, almost patted her again, then thought better of it. He looked at the bartender, "her drink's on me, I love this human!"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The bartender exchanged a look with the lieutenant. She shrugged, and picked up her half-full drink, “If he’s buying, refill it I guess.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The bartender did so and took a few steps back. Okafor nodded at him, </span>
  <em>
    <span>I’m alright.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Her plan was going well.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Name’s Medu, </span>
  <em>
    <span>Sectator</span>
  </em>
  <span> Medu Ilgro,” the Tribune said with a grin, “Who are you, Broken?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Okafor gave him a sidelong glance, “Two names? And a </span>
  <em>
    <span>sectator</span>
  </em>
  <span>. My, my. What are you freaks doing out here?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The Tribunes laughed.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Medu clapped her on the back again, nearly spilling her drink, “We’re on leave on this trash heap. It’s boring here, but not as bad as the outpost.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What are you doing here, Broken?” one of the other Tribunes asked.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“My name is Lieutenant Okafor. I’m with a PMC. Dogsled Company.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You? In a PMC?” the third Tribune asked dubiously.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yep.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“A contractor? Free-agent? I’m jealous,” said the second Tribune, a female, “You get to set your hours, you don’t need to worry about red tape...”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You don’t get stationed on a worthless outpost orbiting a dead world…” the third said.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You’d be surprised,” Okafor muttered, sipping her drink.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What? Did you get stuck out here too?” Medu asked.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You could say that.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Ah, well, least it gives me a chance to meet a Broken.” the sectator grinned, “I’ve never met one like you. Not that I’ve met many.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Most Broken are a bunch of worthless monkeys…” the third Tribune muttered.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’ve never met one who won’t stop apologizing.” the second commented.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Ah, but that’s what this Bro-- That’s what Lieutenant Oak-e isn’t!” Medu said.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Okafor.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Oak-uh-fer! Yeah, that’s it!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The bartender gave Medu a drink. He downed it in one swig. The bartender refilled it. Medu sipped it this time, “So how’d you get stuck out here, Oak-uh-fer?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“My ship’s docked here while we wait for a client to pay us. Dunno why they had us dock here.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Medu nodded, “Where are you heading after this?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Another contract, another mission.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Medu nodded again, and turned around on his stool, leaning against the bar, “Wish I was moving. Been stuck here for the last two years.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Out here for two years? I’m sorry.” Okafor paused, “Where do you people go to get a taste of home?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Movies, video games, getting blackout drunk, the usual.” the female Tribune replied.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Okafor nodded. She sipped her drink, “I’ve been stationed in space off and on for seven years.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The others looked at her. The second Tribune asked, “Seven years? You must have a lot of money. How many contracts is that?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“It’s a lot,” Okafor said in a stilted manner.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“At least you’re moving around.” the third Tribune commented, “must be tough for Broken to be so far from home.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“We manage,” Okafor said. She didn’t make eye contact and kept her eyes forward.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The second Tribune sighed, and drank her drink, “Oh, don’t mention home. I haven’t been home in five years.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She turned around on her stool, “I’d give anything to get outta this dump. Buncha bulkheads, canned air, crammed in here with a bunch of idiots, and the closest thing you get to leave is a barely-habitable rock on the edge of this gods damned dead zone!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She spun around in her seat a bit, “You know what I wanna see? I wanna see a damned pool of water bigger than a fragging drink mug. I wanna </span>
  <em>
    <span>swim</span>
  </em>
  <span>. I grew up on a planet with oceans! Look at this place! Not a drop of water in sight! And when’s the last time you saw a proper rec deck? Next time I see a pool, I’m jumping right in. Uniform and all!"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Home is a space station for me, but I get you." Medu nodded, “I’d love to see a lake.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Well, at least you get some interesting sights. I hear the Kaedan Vault is full of mysteries. Any interesting stories?” Okafor asked.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Well, we get pirates every once in a while…”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The Tribunes talked about a few mysteries, weird tales, and encounters. They didn’t have much, but it was useful info nonetheless. They were stationed a few systems away, in one of the old inner colonies. It seemed to be a place some pirates would go every once in a while, and they’d spotted Naiads here and there. Mostly sensor ghosts though, nothing really solid.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Okafor </span>
  <em>
    <span>did</span>
  </em>
  <span> get some classified details out of them. They drank a </span>
  <em>
    <span>lot</span>
  </em>
  <span> of alcohol.</span>
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The conversation soon turned back to home.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"What's Rally like, oak?” Medu laughed, “Heh, did you leave cuz of all those whining wimps?"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Okafor looked at her drink. "Look it up, dogface."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Hah! Your hometown was that bad?"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The third Tribune scoffed. “She doesn’t have a hometown.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Ah, certainly feels like that…” Medu laughed it off.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The third Tribune shook his head, “</span>
  <em>
    <span>None</span>
  </em>
  <span> of them have a hometown.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Huh?" Medu asked.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Broken. What do </span>
  <em>
    <span>they </span>
  </em>
  <span>know about home?"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"More than you, puppy," Okafor said quietly.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The third Tribune stood up. He wavered slightly, then straightened up, "hey, you don't get to speak to your elders that way."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Come on, Pahd--"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Shut up, Medu," the Tribune snapped, pushing the sectator back clumsily, "my money goes to this shit's stupid dirtball, I gotta...I got the right to speak my mind."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The Tribune drank the rest of his drink, and glared at the lieutenant, "you little bastard. What do </span>
  <em>
    <span>you</span>
  </em>
  <span> know about home? You don’t have a home. You have a </span>
  <em>
    <span>loan</span>
  </em>
  <span>. You destroyed yours. We're out here every day...</span>
  <em>
    <span>every</span>
  </em>
  <span> day, busting our ears for your protection...and...and you come in here pushing my friend around?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He slurred his words and stumbled a bit.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"How much have you had to drink, Padre?" Okafor finished her drink.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"It's </span>
  <em>
    <span>Pahd,</span>
  </em>
  <span> you little shit. I have a name, </span>
  <em>
    <span>you</span>
  </em>
  <span>…” he pointed, his hand wavered, “</span>
  <em>
    <span>you</span>
  </em>
  <span> don’t. We saved your worthless hides, we gave you an entire planet! What gives you the right to come in here and...and...say this crap?"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"If I recall, it was ours before your expedition got there. And </span>
  <em>
    <span>you </span>
  </em>
  <span>weren't on it." Okafor said, still not making eye contact.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Pahd growled.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Pahd--"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Shut up, Medu! Broken, you cracked your little dirtball in half! You morons destroyed it yourselves! You don’t </span>
  <em>
    <span>deserve</span>
  </em>
  <span> to call that world yours, that’s ours! We saved you!"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Okafor didn't respond.</span>
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>
  <span>For a moment she was knee-deep in mud, surrounded by bodies. Blood mixed with the river water, the air was filled with the smell of the dead and a hint of nerve gas.</span>
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>
  <span> "You should be on your knees every time one of us comes by! You </span>
  <em>
    <span>owe </span>
  </em>
  <span>us!" Pahd sneered, "We saved you! You understand that, </span>
  <em>
    <span>ape</span>
  </em>
  <span>? We saved you. We </span>
  <em>
    <span>own </span>
  </em>
  <span>you. You owe us your lives!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“We may owe the </span>
  <em>
    <span>Triarchs</span>
  </em>
  <span> our lives, but we don’t owe </span>
  <em>
    <span>you</span>
  </em>
  <span>. It was their wisdom that saved us. You just happened to be standing nearby.” Okafor replied calmly.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Pahd snarled, then smirked. “Oh, the </span>
  <em>
    <span>Triarchs</span>
  </em>
  <span>? They always have </span>
  <em>
    <span>your</span>
  </em>
  <span> best interests in mind, do they?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Okafor turned around, “Are you questioning them?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Certainly not! I’m questioning...um…”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The Tribune belched and rubbed his face.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Okafor smirked herself, “Come debate me when you’re not hammered.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The Tribune stalked forward, and leaned over her, putting both hands on the bar behind her. “</span>
  <em>
    <span>I know what you people did.</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The Navy Sword brought up both legs and pushed the Tribune back, but did nothing further. She had to play her part. She couldn’t risk compromising the operation because of one drunk loser. She couldn’t disable him. Yet.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Pahd, calm down!” Medu stood up and got in front of his friend, “Don’t start anything, let’s just all calm down!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I know what you animals did to us!” Pahd shouted. He tried to shove past Medu but couldn’t quite manage it, and settled for pointing at her.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Okafor glared daggers at him. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I know what you did!” he repeated, “You’re why we're out here! You’re why the Compact has to exist!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The second Tribune stood up, “Oh for Triarchs’ sake, Pahd, you can’t believe--!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>I know what you monsters did</span>
  </em>
  <span>!” Pahd screamed and tried to launch himself at Okafor. Medu, to his credit, kept the drunken idiot still.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The female Tribune looked at Okafor, and shook her head, “He’s been listening to rumors again. Have you ever heard this bullshit story--?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“It’s not bullshit! It’s the truth!” Pahd snarled, “They slaughtered our ancestors! They had an empire of blood! Hundreds of worlds of </span>
  <em>
    <span>murderers</span>
  </em>
  <span>!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>That got Okafor’s attention. Her face didn’t move much, but something twitched in her eyes.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Pahd smiled, “Yeah, you didn't know that, did ya? </span>
  <em>
    <span>I’ve</span>
  </em>
  <span> seen your world. The Triarchs don't want you morons knowing where it is. So you don't get </span>
  <em>
    <span>upset</span>
  </em>
  <span>."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He stopped struggling, “You little monsters were completely insane. You fired on the first ship you met, you destroyed our battleships, you killed everyone who ever landed on your worlds! You destroyed life pods, disabled ships, and when you didn’t, the things you did to the prisoners...why they had to blow themselves up so you wouldn’t get the chance to touch them!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>So </span>
  <em>
    <span>that </span>
  </em>
  <span>was how they resolved that contradiction. Okafor’s gaze somehow got even more intense.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>His voice took on a sort of campfire story tone, “Mountains of bodies, every last man, woman, and child eagerly climbing over the next into gunfire, just to try and bring one of us down! Just to kill all the enemies of the great Human Imperium!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The other Tribunes looked at each other. The female threw up her hands.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You were all insane!" Pahd shouted, "Right down to your last DNA strand! You were a cancer, and we had to cut you out! The only reason any of you are alive is because of us!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Okafor continued to glare.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You think you're important, but you're just overgrown monkeys in suits the Triarchs like to keep as pets! You owe us for saving you from yourselves! So </span>
  <em>
    <span>we</span>
  </em>
  <span> can do whatever we want to you! You’re </span>
  <em>
    <span>ours</span>
  </em>
  <span>!"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The drunken Tribune had an idea. He smashed his cup on the floor, "pick that up, </span>
  <em>
    <span>ape.</span>
  </em>
  <span> It’s all you’re good for."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Okafor didn’t move. She looked at him.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You’re a client race, I’m a Tribune! Pick that up!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Pick it up yourself. Can't hold onto your glass?"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Okafor then laughed, "even a chimp can hold a glass. Maybe you're not that superior."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Pahd…!" Medu pulled his friend back.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Medu, she's been insulting you all evening! It's time someone taught her a lesson!"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Trust me, you </span>
  <em>
    <span>don't</span>
  </em>
  <span> want to do that!"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"She's tough, is she?" Pahd shoved past Medu, and reached out, "I'll show her how tough--!"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The pistol was out so fast they swore Okafor’s arm hadn't moved. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"I've killed bigger Tribunes than you,” she said, “Wanna get on the list?"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Pahd stepped back.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Okafor sighed. She wasn't going to get much more intel out of these guys. She looked the Tribune up and down. He was a foot and a half taller than her.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The lieutenant smiled, "You aren't even worth the ammo."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She glanced at the bartender, "take the bill out of these guys. They offered to pay."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The female Tribune pulled Pahd back. The drunken fool tried to shove past her again, "I'll get you for this! Broken! I'll get you for this!"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Medu stepped over to Okafor, "you'd better go. I'll try to explain it to the cops, but you know how they are. Go, go on!"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Okafor turned on her heel and walked towards the hatch. She stopped when she reached it. When he realized she had hesitated, Medu walked over, "go on!"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She furrowed her brow at him. "What's with you?"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"You're one of the good ones, oak!" He hissed, "you're not like other Broken, you're a credit to your people, but you have to go! Go on!"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Okafor's face made an expression the Tribune had little experience with. Her eyes narrowed and her mouth opened slightly. She walked out the door.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>One of the good ones</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He didn't mean anything by it. His kind never did.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Credit to my people.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I'm one of "theirs". Not like those other “Broken”.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>There were two kinds of oppressors, those who relished in their cruelty and those who honestly believed they were doing good. They were two sides of the same coin.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She stuck her hands in her pockets and quick-marched to freedom.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Whatever law enforcement there was didn't seem too good at their jobs. She should </span>
  <em>
    <span>probably</span>
  </em>
  <span> lay low though.</span>
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She found Lieutenant JG McWilliams close to the docking bays, in a small storage area. It was kind of a combination between a corridor and a street, like an old European street. The stores were tiny things, with sellers who typically rotated out every few days. McWilliams spotted her approach and nodded.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Anything?" She asked.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Not much. We've got some leads on the black market, and some star systems to check out, but this place isn't very good for direct contacts."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Too much to hope for the Red Hand I guess," Okafor said.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>McWilliams scowled at a Tribune passing by. "Man, it's like We Made It all over again."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She nodded. The Swords had infiltrated many occupied colonies in their line of work. This operation was a little different, but not enormously so.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"We need more Commie ships. The Dogsled isn't going to cut it." McWilliams muttered.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The lieutenant nodded, "Let's get some of the platoon to chat with somebody around here for early retirement. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Somebody's</span>
  </em>
  <span> got to be spineless enough."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Right. And we can break somebody’s legs if the money doesn't cut it." McWilliams nodded.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>They passed Operator Rosenberg, who fell into step with them. They passed more stores.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>McWilliams explained the plan. Rosenberg nodded, "I saw a bird guy back that way, he looked in the mood for retirement. I think if I can get him drunk enough we can just steal his keys."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Would cornering him in an alleyway do it?" McWilliams smirked.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Let's try not to leave bodies around. We're supposed to be inconspicuous, gentlemen." Okafor said.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Alright. If you want to do it that way,” McWilliams said with a theatrical sigh, “Rosenberg, what kind of ship is it?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“It’s pretty small, but it looked only a few centuries old at most.” Rosenberg reported, “We could at least get a fireteam on there.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>McWilliams turned to say something to Okafor, looked past her slightly, and suddenly froze.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"What is it?" She hissed and scanned the corridor for targets.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Suh -- Suh -- skipper…" McWilliams croaked and pointed.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She didn't see it at first. He pointed at the window of the store they stood nearby. It sold odds and ends. A basic tchotchke store.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The lieutenant didn't see it until she saw the gold flash in a mirror tchotchke. It was a small silver and gold object. It had four golden spider legs and a silver top like a hexagonal prism. It also had two panels arranged over a third that looked out at them like a face.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Skipper…" McWilliams repeated. He stepped forward and put a hand on the glass. And burst into tears.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Okafor had seen the man gun down a column of Tribune soldiers in the jungle before. He'd broken a Commie trooper’s jaw with a rifle butt. He’d done some pretty messed up stuff. McWilliams was an excellent Navy Sword.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>And the JG lieutenant fell to his knees and wept over a tiny toy.</span>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Sitting in the storefront window was a LEM. A little toy replica of a LEM. An Apollo Lunar Excursion Module. It was damaged, most of the antennae were gone, but it was still a LEM. The first crewed human spacecraft to land on another planetary body, the </span>
  <em>
    <span>Eagle</span>
  </em>
  <span>...had become a cheap knick-knack in someone’s store.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The </span>
  <em>
    <span>Eagle </span>
  </em>
  <span>had become unworthy of even a name.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. Geometry</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>A narrow escape and an idealist.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>“...we’ve managed to get some weapons attached to our escorts. The spare parts from the </span>
  <em>
    <span>Vanguard</span>
  </em>
  <span>’s old secondary batteries, and the old missiles can give them a bit more of a punch.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Commander Afolabi indicated certain points on an image of the </span>
  <em>
    <span>Hatsuyuki</span>
  </em>
  <span>, displayed on the briefing room holo tank. Admiral Moreno, Captain Mrowka, Captain Long, Commander Kosami, and Commander Sherman were in attendance, as was now-President Pearce. Frye and Hudgens were elsewhere. All but Moreno and Mrowka attended remotely.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Afolabi hit a control, and a few holograms of Compact weaponry appeared; railguns, directed energy weapons, missiles, torpedoes, the works. Some had been recovered from the remains of the patrol frigate and the outposts, while others had been recovered on scouting missions to a few nearby systems. They’d recovered mining rigs, equipment, and pre-fabricated colony modules from space and planetary surfaces. This included a stockpile of munitions and related equipment, as well as rations for the POWs.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The mining rigs and ore processors were already being used to great effect for fuel and raw materials. They had several Compact shuttles to supplement their worn-out auxiliary craft and now had the opportunity to take some ships in for some much-needed overhaul.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>They even found a small starship, good for only a few shifts, but it could be used for more reconnaissance like the Dogsled team. It had been a successful few weeks. Sort of.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“We’re still checking out the Compact tech, but we haven’t figured out how to get any weapons attached to our ships yet,” Afolabi explained, “I’m afraid the gear from the station is just about the only new gear we can use.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You guys figured out how to get the space station loot working. Why not the Compact stuff?” Sherman asked.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Afolabi scratched her head, “The station was a hexagon-in-a-round-hole problem. Sure it doesn’t work as well as it should, but we can file down the corners and make it </span>
  <em>
    <span>function</span>
  </em>
  <span>. This is a </span>
  <em>
    <span>triangle </span>
  </em>
  <span>in-a-round-hole problem. It took the best techs in the Navy </span>
  <em>
    <span>years</span>
  </em>
  <span> to reverse engineer Compact gear, and it was a miracle that they were able to do it in a reasonable timeframe. Their systems won’t talk to ours, it’s not built for us, it’s out of our league. We can operate the shuttles, vehicles, some of the mining equipment, and the other gear, but that’s about it. We can operate and maintain the gear, but we can’t </span>
  <em>
    <span>replace </span>
  </em>
  <span>it, or use it to upgrade our ships.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She grimaced, “Now, we </span>
  <em>
    <span>can </span>
  </em>
  <span>get the station tech working, but we don’t understand it. We don’t have the manuals, first of all, that’s a huge challenge. Second of all, it’s more advanced than even the new Compact gear. The equipment </span>
  <em>
    <span>can </span>
  </em>
  <span>talk to our computers, barely, but we don’t understand the science behind it, we don’t know why some of it isn’t working the way it should be, the material science is light-years ahead of the most experimental stuff I’ve ever seen. And we can’t replace this gear either.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Afolabi looked around, “We don’t have the tools to make the tools to make more. Once the missiles are gone, they’re gone.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“But can’t we try--”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Afolabi shook her head, “We’ve tried it, commander. We’ve </span>
  <em>
    <span>been</span>
  </em>
  <span> trying. We’re doing everything we can. Whatever you’re thinking of, we’ve tried it. Trust me, we’re doing our best, but right now, we’re just going to have to hold onto the Compact stuff.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She paused, “Now, our prisoners might be able to show us how most of the gear works, but we don’t have enough of them who both have shipyard experience, </span>
  <em>
    <span>and </span>
  </em>
  <span>are willing to help us if we don’t space them. We’re going to have to wait until we can find a place to stay before we can risk trusting any of them.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“If we can get out of Compact territory, maybe we can get some alien shipwrights to do it for us.” Long suggested.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Afolabi’s gaze narrowed, “The only places I can think of that might take us are pirates. That’s just not right. Do you want to let pirates crawl over our ships? We’re a Navy crew. Sir.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Do we want </span>
  <em>
    <span>aliens</span>
  </em>
  <span>, alien </span>
  <em>
    <span>pirates</span>
  </em>
  <span>, crawling through our ships?” Sherman asked.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Long raised an eyebrow, and shrugged, “Well if we pay off enough hands, people like that will do </span>
  <em>
    <span>anything</span>
  </em>
  <span>.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yeah. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Human</span>
  </em>
  <span> shipwrights. Any alien port would turn us over to the Commies for a quick buck.” Sherman said, “You can’t trust any of them.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Just because they’re aliens doesn’t mean they’re all the same, Commander Sherman,” Moreno said calmly.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>A tense atmosphere grew in the room, even over telepresence.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I know what they’ve done to us, but we have to fight them without becoming them.” Moreno looked around at the other officers, “Xenophobia is what made them kill the rest of us.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She took a breath, “I want to make it clear; life is life. The Compact is enslaving dozens of other races, not just humans. We’re a great minority. They’re just as brainwashed as Rally is. The Verrish fought the Compact within the last century, and who knows who else did? Just because they’re different doesn’t make them hostile.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She put her hands together, “Now, I don’t believe anyone in this room hates aliens. I want each of you to make sure any xenophobic...ideas don’t take root in your commands. There’s less than a million of us, and if we want to see Earth again in our lifetimes, we’re going to </span>
  <em>
    <span>need</span>
  </em>
  <span> alien help. We need allies, weapons, and troops.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Sherman looked at the table.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Moreno suppressed a sigh. She’d met a lot of officers who’d wanted to kill every last alien in the Compact. She’d met others who wanted to exterminate just the Tribunes, the Triarchs, or to inflict any number of horrific biological or nanite weapons on them.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The enemy didn’t seem to have any regard for rules of war, they fought hard and they fought dirty. POWs attacked medics, they self-destructed their crippled ships when Confederate rescue parties came to their aid and all sorts of other crimes.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The Compact was their first alien contacts, and they were practically monsters. Aliens alone were easy to demonize, and it wasn’t a stretch with Compact “rules” of war to brand all aliens with the same xenophobic fears.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>But as bad as they were, even the Tribunes were still people. The POWs Moreno had seen were people. Though they had strange customs and societal structure, they still had families, still had hopes and dreams.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The admiral had to remember that every time she saw Horus II. Every time...</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Moreno rubbed her eyes and blinked rapidly. She hadn’t gotten much sleep lately. The constant toil, the feeling of displacement, unable to know when they’d next find a port…Bizarrely it reminded her of traveling as a kid.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The admiral rubbed her eyes again. She didn’t know if she’d ever get another good night’s sleep. At the very least, not until she was finally under a comfortable 1.2 Gs not created by artificial gravity. The entire fleet ached desperately for home.</span>
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>
  <span>President Pearce put his hands together, “I believe that leads us into the next stage of our agenda for today. Our plan for reaching the Principality.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Afolabi sat down, and Moreno nodded, “Yes, Mr. President.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Mrowka tapped a control, and the projector displayed a star map, “Reaching them won’t be easy. We don’t have the resources to get there from our position. We’re on the opposite side of Commie territory from them.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She pointed out the blue mass of former UEC territory, the glob of red Compact holdings, and the distant green of the Principality. “ONI says our best bet is to take a more indirect route.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>More highlights, from every point of the color spectrum, appeared with labels at various points in and around the major galactic players, “There are some independent star nations around the Compact, including the Principality. Some were formed by former Commie holdings declaring independence, going rogue, or fleeing because they disagreed with the ruling body. Whatever the case, they’re independent and a lot of them don’t like the Compact. And they’ll have the up-to-date tech, unlike us.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She looked at the others, “Our best chance is to find one of these independent states, make contact, and request asylum. Then we’ll either borrow some ships from them or send word to the Principality so they can come and get us.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Pearce nodded, “Do we have any intelligence on any nation that may be willing to take us in?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“We’re not sure. A few of them look like promising candidates, but even the military records we picked up don’t have much on the actual situation in a bunch of these places.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She pointed at one star cluster, “This one’s interesting. It’s an area where an expansion fleet fell into civil war. Official records say something about Unbound corrupting an admiral or some other kind of nonsense. Intelligence believes their admiral had a moment of clarity and tried to defend some independent species from being conquered, and the fleet captains disagreed with each other.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The captain grimaced, “They probably aren’t going to last too long. They’re on the back burner for now, but a situation like that is only going to last a few decades at most. It’s embarrassing.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Mrowka pointed at a few other points, “In general, there’s plenty that are well-established rebels, idealists, and the like. However, we don’t know how many are boot-lickers and will just turn us over to the enemy for some Commie goodwill. And even if, say this one,” she pointed to the same star cluster again, “won’t turn us over to the enemy, they may not have the resources, shipyards, or available ships to take us in or get word to the Principality. And that’s assuming we can avoid ideological disputes.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What exactly does that mean, ma’am?” Kosami asked.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Rogue units may sound like plucky underdogs, but they may also be just trying to set themselves up as kings,” Captain Long explained, “we don’t know if that fleet may have just turned around to oppress the independent worlds. There’s a lot of different forms of government to choose from; just because they broke from the Compact doesn’t make them the good guys, or even </span>
  <em>
    <span>sane</span>
  </em>
  <span>.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“So we need a location that has enough resources to take us in, the right mindset, and enough firepower if things get hairy.” Pearce summarized.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Mrowka nodded, “Yes, exactly, sir.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Pearce nodded back, “Finding a place to hunker down shouldn’t be our only goal. Even if we make it to the Principality, we still run the risk of losing the war. Our long-term goal should be to find a way to stop them, and get our territory back.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He looked around, “Correct me if I’m wrong, but one nation alone cannot stand against the enemy. Now together…”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Pearce gestured to Moreno, “Admiral, there was a proposal on this matter?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Moreno nodded. The plan had been a composition of many different actors within the fleet, but it helped cement the new president’s authority if he brought it forward, “The long-term goal of reaching the Principality has a few problems. While we have experienced officers, our technology is going to be out of date compared to theirs, and we don’t have many assets to bring to the table. We don’t know what their opinions on humans are, but I’m sure many of you can guess that even if they take us in, they’re probably not going to like having to babysit us without anything to show for it, at least not for a long time, beyond a few warm bodies. Captain Mrowka?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Mrowka pointed at the star map, “The plan is to contact every one of the smaller nations and rally support. They don’t have to be willing to grant us asylum, we just have to get their support. If we can rally enough support from them, we’ll have some political clout and useful assets for the Principality. Arms, resources, influence, you name it. Just knowing someone who might be willing to give them supplies under the table will be worth something.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span> The battleship captain indicated several nations on the screen that were arrayed around the red eyesore, “Now, here’s the meat of our proposal. Operation Anaconda. If we can rally a large amount of support, we’ll have more than useful assets. We might have a means of ending the war.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>With a touch of the controls, a line appeared all around the Compact. The officers exchanged glances.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“As you said, Mr. President, one nation can’t withstand the Compact,” Mrowka said, “but several might be able to. If we can combine the military forces of the minor nations, and the Principality’s fleets, we have a chance to coordinate an offensive that might stop the Compact in its tracks. Even something as big as the Compact only has so many ships. A large-scale offensive from the Principality, plus every ship the smaller nations can throw at them, will mean they have to fight a war on ten fronts.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Moreno nodded, “We don’t have anything concrete yet, but we can at least raise some hell. With the combined forces of all the surrounding nations, we should be able to halt them enough to get a cease-fire, and buy us the time we need to bring them down or find another big empire willing to help us.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Why hasn’t the Principality, or anyone else, done this before?” Long asked.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“That’s the tricky part. While we know we’ll probably be able to gather together some influence and resources, there’s no guarantee we’ll be able to string them all together into a cohesive fighting force. The Compact is intimidating. We never said this would be easy.” Mrowka replied.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“But it </span>
  <em>
    <span>may</span>
  </em>
  <span> be possible,” Moreno said, “Keyword ‘may’. They might be terrified of the Compact, but we may be able to take advantage of the fact that we’re what the </span>
  <em>
    <span>Commies</span>
  </em>
  <span> are afraid of.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She smirked slightly, “We’ll take advantage of our legend, or lack thereof. We’ll show them who we are, and tell them what the Compact’s been lying about for years. Genocide gets people mad if nothing else, and we can use that. If we can survive against the most determined Compact assaults, so can they. And even if they like us, but aren’t willing to go to war, we can still probably get them to help in some way.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>There were some positive nods.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Isn’t this just how the Principality treated us?” Sherman asked in a low voice. “I’d like to point out that we </span>
  <em>
    <span>know</span>
  </em>
  <span> the smaller nations are going to get overrun. You know they won’t say yes.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The nods faded.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Moreno’s small smile faded, “Yes, they’re going to get overrun. I’m sure they know that too.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Mrowka looked at the younger captain, “this won’t be like our war. </span>
  <em>
    <span>They</span>
  </em>
  <span> have a chance of survival. They won’t be exterminated, they’ll be invaded.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“But…” Kosami sputtered, “but Captain...we’re just going to throw a bunch of people under the bus? We’re just going to get them into the war to buy us time to survive?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Moreno looked down. War wasn’t easy. It never was no matter what anyone said. Because no matter what happens, you can’t save everyone.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Kosami looked upset, but maintained his composure, “We want to make friends with these guys just so we can throw them at the enemy?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Well...at least it won’t be us, right?” Sherman asked half-heartedly.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“So we’re just going to let what happened to us happen to them?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I repeat, theirs would be a war of borders, not of survival.” Mrowka said, and then grimaced, “Anyway, Operation Anaconda would only happen if we were stupidly lucky. If we can get a few to sign on, that’s great, but Anaconda’s a pipe dream at the moment.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Kosami scratched his head and fell silent. Moreno grimaced. It </span>
  <em>
    <span>was </span>
  </em>
  <span>an unethical plan, wasn’t it?</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>But could they hope there was another nation that was both friendly </span>
  <em>
    <span>and</span>
  </em>
  <span> powerful enough to challenge the Compact? Was Anaconda, the pipe dream, really their only option for victory? The whole war was all about the unethical vs slightly less unethical choices.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Suddenly, the general quarters alarm rang. “</span>
  <em>
    <span>General quarters, general quarters. All hands man your battle stations. Set material condition zebra. Hostile warp point detected. Repeat, hostile contact detected.</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The other commanders disconnected and vanished from view, while Moreno and Mrowka jumped to their feet.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>They rushed through the corridors on the short path to the bridge. Crewmembers rushed by with tools or dressed in heavy equipment for the risk of depressurization.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The officers entered the bridge, and Mrowka demanded, “Rivera, what’s happened?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Rivera called out, “</span>
  <em>
    <span>Canberra</span>
  </em>
  <span> picked it up a few hours ago, relatively. It jumped in pretty deep into the gravity well, and they managed to get a few scans. It’s a Compact ship, alright.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>On the main bridge holo-imager, the solar system was displayed. A red icon appeared on the opposite side of the star. Moreno cursed. They’d hoped to have another week, at least, before the next patrol came through.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Mrowka grimaced, “How long till the </span>
  <em>
    <span>Hecla</span>
  </em>
  <span> can cut us loose?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Rivera spread his hands, “They were working on the power systems. It’s extremely sensitive, we can’t power up anything until they close it back up. It’s going to take time.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Update from </span>
  <em>
    <span>Canberra</span>
  </em>
  <span>!” a communications officer reported, “Enemy signature is a Compact capital ship, estimate it’s cruiser-sized.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Mrowka cursed this time, “Rivera, light a fire under Afolabi. I need my ship mobile!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Moreno checked her systems and ran through their options. What was a capital ship doing out here? The records they found said the next patrol by the local capital ships was a month away. Something was afoot, even as simple as a schedule change, but they couldn’t worry about it now.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The enemy was coming from the other side of Horus, the star itself. That would buy them some time. They could try to set up a minefield, but it would be tough to get them to go into it. She checked the status of their fireships. A handful of their smallest ships, and a pair of Compact shuttles, were retrofitted with extra armor, shield systems, and a number of their biggest warheads. They </span>
  <em>
    <span>might</span>
  </em>
  <span> be able to weaken the cruiser, but they had to get it close enough to do some damage, and their engines were a joke compared to even modern Compact civilian ships. Maybe they could figure out a way to lure the enemy in close, then ambush them with the big guns. Their ships would fascinate them at least. Maybe enough to get in close…Too many maybes.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Moreno began to give orders, “The </span>
  <em>
    <span>Armada</span>
  </em>
  <span> and the </span>
  <em>
    <span>Canberra</span>
  </em>
  <span> are to get to warp limits directly opposite the enemy ship. All civilian ships that can move are to follow them. All remaining ships are to get moving as soon as possible. We might need to deploy a minefield. All high-yield ordnance needs to go to all military ships other than the </span>
  <em>
    <span>Armada</span>
  </em>
  <span> and the </span>
  <em>
    <span>Canberra</span>
  </em>
  <span>. If this cruiser wants a fight, we'll give it to them, but that's not a priority. We will only engage if we cannot disengage first. I want every engineer we have cutting ships loose from the </span>
  <em>
    <span>Hecla</span>
  </em>
  <span>, and getting us </span>
  <em>
    <span>moving</span>
  </em>
  <span>.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She paused and looked around the bridge. “We </span>
  <em>
    <span>will</span>
  </em>
  <span> make it, everyone. That’s a promise.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It was several hours before the cruiser noticed them and moved in the direction of Horus III. Or at least for the light to reach their probes.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“They identify themselves as the scout cruiser </span>
  <em>
    <span>Attentive</span>
  </em>
  <span>,” a comms rating reported, “they’re ordering us to identify themselves.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Mrowka looked a little surprised for a moment, then scowled.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Should we respond?” Rivera asked he looked between the admiral and the captain.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Moreno put a hand to her chin. “Tell them we’re a mercenary outfit, the Blue Doves. We just warped in, and we’re protecting this convoy. That should buy us some time.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Doves?” Mrowka asked.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“It’s technically true.” Moreno shrugged.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The cruiser drew closer and closer. The UEC fireships puttered along. Hours later, they got the response.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“They want to know if we know what happened to their outposts, who exactly we are, where we originate, our black box data…” the rating squinted, “...there’s a lot of questions.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Mrowka was sorely tempted to send a message about truth, justice, and freedom, but as much fun as that science fiction cliche would be...she didn’t have any material ready.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Moreno frowned, then sighed. “Tell the comms department to come up with something to tell them.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>There were more hours to go before it arrived.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The enemy was about five million kilometers from Horus III, around sixteen hours after arrival, when another alert sounded.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Warp point detected!” a sensor operator called out, fright creeping into her voice, “Ah, it-- stand by!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The sensor crews spoke to the other parts of their division throughout the ship. They argued back and forth about something. Rivera walked over and joined in the conversation.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Mrowka stepped over herself, “Commander, what is going on? What happened?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Rivera rubbed his brow, “Captain, sensors are picking up a warp point in-system. At a </span>
  <em>
    <span>Lagrange point</span>
  </em>
  <span>.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The officers looked at each other. The Compact had unlocked the secret to those sorts of warp jumps centuries ago. During the war, it had been a hypothetical tactic. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Extremely</span>
  </em>
  <span> hypothetical. Studies said that even Compact shift drives back in the day couldn’t have done that, even with all the navigational data they could get. But even now it was still very rare to do so. Why was someone warping in now?</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Looks like it’s at Horus III’s L4 point,” Rivera added, “two million klicks from the cruiser.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“New data!” a rating reported, “It’s battleship-class.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Mrowka muttered a string of curses. Moreno sat back and closed her eyes. She took a deep breath.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Well, it was a good run.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“New sensor data. Captain, new sensor data!” sensors reported urgently.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Mrowka looked around, “New contacts?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Negative! The battleship’s firing on the cruiser!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>They all looked up at one of the holo tanks. Sure enough, the scout cruiser split in two under withering fire from the battleship. They were some distance away from each other, but every shot was on target.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The battleship wasn’t even using their main guns. At least if their ship had any.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>More sensor data came in, including a visual image of the battleship. It was a kilometer longer than the </span>
  <em>
    <span>Vanguard</span>
  </em>
  <span> but still shorter than a </span>
  <em>
    <span>Nemesis</span>
  </em>
  <span>-class. Its beam was thinner than one might expect from a ship of the same size. Its hull was black and dark red. The color coupled with the size gave it a sleek and sinister hull. Its prow split into two curved prongs, which could indicate two main guns or one large mass driver. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The sensors couldn’t tell which it was. Most of the data was garbage, both useless and being inhibited by the other ship’s ECM. Some equipment insisted it wasn’t there, some said it was much smaller than the cameras and what little radar or lidar returns they got told them. Even their new equipment, if it was functioning right, was barely getting a return. The ECM was so intense. They wouldn’t have been able to even </span>
  <em>
    <span>see </span>
  </em>
  <span>it if they’d had their old gear. All they could tell was it was big and nasty. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Compact cruiser destroyed.” the rating reported, and a cheer went up through the bridge.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“We can see that…” Mrowka muttered, then asked more loudly, “Does it match any known Principality profiles?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Negative. It’s completely foreign to anything we know.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Try to hail them.” Moreno ordered, then commented to Mrowka, “Maybe this is our break.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Mrowka shrugged. On the holo-imager’s tactical map, the battleship silhouette turned from a generic Compact battleship to the outline of a pre-war battleship with a question mark on it. The typical image for an unidentified battleship.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The signal went unanswered. They tried several times, even sending English and Compact Standard language files, to no avail. Whoever they were, they weren’t interested in talking with humans.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The vessel didn’t move in-system. It stayed near the cruiser. Soon they found that the scout cruiser was </span>
  <em>
    <span>shrinking</span>
  </em>
  <span>. The astronomy section reported that they could see cutting torches being used. Somehow the other vessel had deployed auxiliary craft without detection. It was taking the ship apart.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“So is it on our side?” someone asked.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Well? Is it, admiral?” Mrowka asked, and gave her a strange look.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Moreno had her fingers interlaced, watching the remains of the scout cruiser being pulled apart. “Good question.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Further scans revealed no resemblance to the supply platform they found. Not even visual similarities.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The admiral sighed, “Alright. I guess they’re not going to answer. We can’t stay here, the fleet’s waiting for us. Whatever it is, it’s bought us time. Get the </span>
  <em>
    <span>Hecla</span>
  </em>
  <span> moving, we’re to reach warp limits ASAP.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Once the cruiser was taken apart, the unknown battleship remained in the vicinity. It should’ve detected the UEC fleet a long time ago, so what was it doing? It wasn’t moving to engage, it wasn’t moving away.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Its shape reminded Moreno of some old 21st-century stealth fighters, with no corners, just angles, and curves. She didn’t know whether to admire it or be creeped out.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The remaining UEC ships retreated to warp limits. The other ships warped one by one. The </span>
  <em>
    <span>Hatsuyuki</span>
  </em>
  <span> was one of the last to depart. And they finally got a signal.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Lieutenant? I’m getting a strange transmission.” a rating called out in the destroyer’s communication center.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Let me hear it.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It was a sound like static in a way, just a thick mass of sounds. A few words could be made out. Not that they were intelligible, just syllables of some kind.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Did you run it through the translators?” the lieutenant asked.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yes ma’am. But it’s still a mess.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Alright.” the lieutenant looked over the sound file.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“It’s almost like several transmissions are layered on top of each other...like a </span>
  <em>
    <span>lot</span>
  </em>
  <span> of transmissions.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Well then, try isolating just one. Or even a few.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I was just doing that.” The rating hit some controls, working for several minutes.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“There’s just so many...hold on…”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>An avalanche of overlapping voices spilled from the speakers. They could make out five or six different ones.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Emergency, emergency!...help, please!...this is pack leader...ship in distress, ship in distress...open fire, open fire!...this is the </span>
  </em>
  <span>Nightsong Ascendant, </span>
  <em>
    <span>we’re under attack!...</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>There were many other sounds. Pain, anguish, and terror from a thousand different tongues and a thousand different means of vocal communication. All Compact signals. Tens of thousands of Compact distress calls.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The officer and the rating slowly looked at each other in horror. Across the system, the battleship did not advance or retreat. It just watched them. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>...was it waiting for a response?</span>
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>
  <strong>
    <span>XXXXX</span>
  </strong>
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Aboard a Compact Space Force space station, one of the largest in the Kaedan Vault, a Tribune by the name of Column Leader Depta(and four names) walked into her commander’s office. The other Tribune sat behind his desk, as he poured over displays and datapads. The chamber was large, with his desk on a raised platform. There were two screens to either side, that displayed an external feed of the planet they orbited.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Column Leader Prime. You wanted to see me?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Column Leader Prime Sharif, an officer with six names besides, looked at his subordinate. With one last glance, he turned away from his displays.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yes, Column Leader. Have a seat.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Depta did so.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Have you heard the reports about the </span>
  <em>
    <span>Attentive</span>
  </em>
  <span>?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Ah...yes sir. It’s overdue. I believe it was supposed to shock through the outer systems of the Vault and make sure things were clear for the new deployments. It’s overdue by several weeks.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Sharif nodded, “It has been destroyed. The wreckage was discovered in the Hilnus system. Scans revealed little about what destroyed it. The remains seemed to have been deliberately dismantled. In addition, almost all of the crewed outposts in the system have been destroyed.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Depta grimaced.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Sharif nodded grimly, “Preliminary speculation suggests Naiad activity. Search teams found recent mining activity in the system. Most of it was fairly well-hidden, but we noted several minor asteroids were missing.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He paused, “...there were some unusual notes, however. They investigated a few asteroids that had been only partially mined. The work was sloppy. And it wasn’t Naiad work. The mining was done with both Compact drill bits, but also machinery we didn’t recognize. Something woefully more inefficient than our modern technology. And they noted something was investigating the ruins.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The Tribune looked up, “Which ones, Column Leader?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“The colony ruins on Hilnus II.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The Tribune frowned, “Well, that’s not so unusual. Neither is a cruiser going missing, unfortunately. Naiads could have destroyed it, and these could just be scavengers who came in the meantime. They buy cut-rate mining rigs all the time.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“That’s what the search team thought, but scavengers don’t usually investigate ruins. And they’re usually much worse at cleaning up the mess. This wasn’t some clumsy scavenging mission. This was a careful effort to excavate ruins, retrieve artifacts, then try to cover it back up. And whoever they were did it quite well. The search team almost couldn’t find a trace.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Depta shook her head, “Then if they were going to such efforts to hide it, I doubt it’s scavengers, or any Unbound group, sir. It’s likely some corporation or entrepreneur that bribed the outposts, and went in before or after the Naiad attack.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Sharif put his fingers together, “I'm not sure about that. What have you heard about the new pirate group that has been spotted in our vicinity? The Blue Avians?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Depta looked skeptical, "I've read the reports. A skilled new Unbound group. But I doubt they’re involved. I believe this is nothing less than a well-funded entrepreneur or corporation. Unbound don't usually go to these lengths."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Not usually,” Sharif conceded, then looked her in the eye, “but they have been known to do so. The Red Hand has gone on archeological digs, Column Leader. Why wouldn’t the Blue Avians do the same?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“They are simple pirates, sir. And even the Red Hand is not that thorough.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“To our knowledge.” Sharif pointed out.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yes sir,” Depta said carefully, “But even if the Blue Avians are as skilled as they say. It is my professional opinion that they are merely thorough pirates who are excellent at theatrics, on the occasions when they attack. I bet most of the attacks are just panicked freighter crews who don’t want to explain their incompetence. And I doubt anyone like them would have any interest in old relics.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She grimaced, “Have you noticed how many of their ‘victims’ are client races?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Sharif frowned sadly, “Depta, that’s not their fault. It's just the result of chance.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Depta looked at him, “Yes sir.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>He’s right. It’s not their fault they were born that way.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’ve been studying the accounts of these Blue Avians. It’s fascinating the way they operate.” Sharif said, “They </span>
  <em>
    <span>are</span>
  </em>
  <span> quite thorough, and even with the notorious unreliability of oral accounts, what we know for certain is that they are quite skilled. They surprise the victim, order them to match course, and board them. They do not injure any person they don’t have to or participate in any of the horrid acts many of their compatriots typically do. They simply take all their cargo and all the rations that can be spared. Then they destroy black boxes, cameras, all recording equipment they can find. They leave the crews where they are, and allow them to be rescued.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“So they are stealthy, and among the more principled pirates. Many pirate groups destroy recordings…”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Sharif nodded, “Yes, but not all of them are so unfamiliar to the crews of the captured ships. This group is only ever described in strange terms. Armor is referred to, but no specific models could be named. Even from former service members.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Sharif displayed several images of drawings that had been made of the pirate armor. Actual drawings on paper or other writing surfaces, as even pocket cameras were destroyed. “They are bipedal, have five fingers, lack tails, and on average are 7/10ths the size of a Tribune. That is all that can be determined about them. Their armor, their weapons, their ships...all unfamiliar. Aside from the blue, there was no other insignia. They can’t be a new race or Naiads. The Xeno paleontologists decided to investigate. Their findings were quite interesting.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“They’re all Unbound,” Depta dismissed, “What does it matter who they are?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Sharif raised an eyebrow at his subordinate, “That matters far more than you think, Column Leader. Especially with pirates.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He held out one hand, “Their blue motif, for instance. Is that an artistic choice, or are they perhaps related to the Blue Fire? They could be a splinter group or some kind of special duty unit. This is a different world than the one you are used to, Column Leader. You must </span>
  <em>
    <span>not</span>
  </em>
  <span> forget that. This isn’t the Principality. There’s far more subtlety when dealing with Unbound.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He leaned forward, “...And I know what they say about me.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Depta tilted her head, “Sir?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“They say I have more liberal views on clients than others of my stature, that I am ‘too soft’ on them...”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He chuckled, “There are some truth and some falsehood to those rumors.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Sir, I never said anything about that. I respect you--”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“And that’s all I ask. But I also don’t want any more of that attitude toward clients.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He looked out the window, “I do not believe in an extremely firm hand on clients, but I do not believe in letting them go either. I believe we are frequently too hard on many of our client races.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Depta knew those debates. She’d seen more than a few arguments in tertiary education classes, “Sometimes it takes force to send a message. It’s frequently all they understand.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Is that true? If violence were all they understood, why would we let them into the Compact? Come now, Column Leader, you must recognize that they are sapients as well. Primitive, savage, but sapients nonetheless. If we abuse them or allow less-than-scrupulous individuals to abuse them, they will never believe that we are here to help.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Depta shrugged, “Some corruption is unavoidable, but a firm hand </span>
  <em>
    <span>is</span>
  </em>
  <span> necessary. What would you suggest, sir? What other way is there?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Sharif smiled gently, “We show them, without becoming them. We have to be gentle, we have to </span>
  <em>
    <span>show </span>
  </em>
  <span>them the truth. We can’t extort them, we can’t bomb them, we have to </span>
  <em>
    <span>convert </span>
  </em>
  <span>them. If we force them, if we make it the law, they won’t change in their hearts. They would say the words, but they wouldn’t </span>
  <em>
    <span>be</span>
  </em>
  <span> part of the Compact. We must convert them to our way of thinking.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The Column Leader Prime put his hands together, “our analysts have a theory for who these Blue Avians are. The analysts believe they’re Broken.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Depta frowned. “Broken? What makes them say that?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“This.” Sharif passed her a datapad. “While they destroyed the digital recorders, one merchant was savvy enough to pick up a piece of paper and look out a window. She drew a picture of their largest ship. Again, we couldn’t recognize it. However, Xeno paleontologists pulled this from the archives. It’s a direct match to the largest pirate vessel.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Depta furrowed her brow at it. It displayed a hammerhead-shaped warship, with far more angles than a proper civilized vessel should have. It wasn’t even curved much beyond the engine nozzles. It looked dreadfully primitive.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What is this, sir?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“It’s a battleship. It was once known as an </span>
  <em>
    <span>eef-ret cla-ss bat-el-sheep</span>
  </em>
  <span>.” Sharif said the last three words in an alien language, sounding out the syllables carefully, and with pride. He had reason to be proud, he certainly practiced it long enough.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She glanced up at him in surprise, “Sir?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“It’s an ancient language, Column Leader, and according to records, </span>
  <em>
    <span>that</span>
  </em>
  <span> is a kind of warship that has not been sighted in one-thousand, nine-hundred, and seventy-five years.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Who did it belong to?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Sharif smiled, “That belonged to something known as the </span>
  <em>
    <span>U-ni-ted Earth Con-fed-racy</span>
  </em>
  <span>.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She recognized one of the words that time. “Earth?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yes, Column Leader. Earth. That was a warship that belonged to the human empire.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Depta’s eyes widened.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Don’t underestimate them, Column Leader. Those vessels were devastating, for a savage race, at least. One of these ships could challenge our cruisers, back in the day.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Sharif pointed at the battleship, “That warship represents sickness. Disease. Savagery, and an affliction of the mind. It represents insanity.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He grimaced, “Real humans, </span>
  <em>
    <span>our</span>
  </em>
  <span> humans, are safe. They’re respectable sapients, if not the most advanced. But that’s come after painstaking effort to cure them.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Depta nodded, “I am aware, sir. They destroyed </span>
  <em>
    <span>Bringer of Light</span>
  </em>
  <span>.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Sharif nodded back, “insanity does not mean </span>
  <em>
    <span>unintelligent</span>
  </em>
  <span>. That is, I think, the worst part about it. They were very insane, but extremely clever and stubborn beings. They knew their inferior technology could not win, but they made incredible efforts to fight back. They gave us quite a struggle before they were destroyed.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He meant that in the same sense as a farmer might destroy a beast of burden.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Depta held the datapad gingerly as if a trace of the ship designer's madness might come off on her hand, “I hated learning about this in school.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She hated serving where the war had been fought even more. Both she and Sharif were from Compact core worlds and had been taught about the treacherous human attack in school. It was also required reading for senior officers in the Kaedan Vault.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The column leader winced, “And you say one of these ships is wandering around the vault?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The Column Leader Prime nodded, “I’m afraid so. We did our best, but some of their old ships still exist, some debris, artifacts here and there. It is difficult to destroy a spacefaring civilization. Even an industrial civilization is hard to eliminate.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He spread his hands, “Who knows where they found them? There were hundreds of worlds and thousands of enemy warships. We did a thorough sweep, but they may have found a wreck drifting in interstellar space.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Sharif put his hands back together, “Now, it is the opinion of strategic analysis, client studies, and the Xeno paleontologists that a pirate group, mainly made up of Broken, have found these ships and repaired them. They have also found the old databases these ships had, with all that sickness caged up inside. We believe that they believe they’ve been betrayed by the Compact, and are lashing out. They think everything they know is a lie because they found out The Cataclysm was a cover. There is a small mountain of evidence.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>At Sharif’s prompting, Depta swept through her datapad’s information. A space station police report was displayed. Several paragraphs were underlined.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Suspect spoke with a Space Force enlisted soldier about historical events, enlisted spoke about human history, and the suspect became angry. The suspect threatened enlisted with a phased plasma pistol before fleeing the scene.</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Depta furrowed her brow.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Broken collapsed physically and emotionally at the sight of a small golden trinket, that the store owner reported one of the human compatriots identified as being an artifact of human origin. Validity of claim in doubt.</span>
  </em>
  <span>” There was a photo of the trinket attached.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The column leader swept to another document, a photograph. Red alien letters had been sprayed onto a bulkhead, straight and rigid lines instead of proper letters. A translation was provided.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>One giant leap</span>
  </em>
  <span>”. Cryptic.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Those are references to pre-Compact humanity, according to the paleontologists.” The group leader prime said.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Sir, if you’ll forgive me, even if this is true, doesn’t that mean they should be destroyed?” Depta asked.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Sharif tilted his head from side to side, “I do not believe so.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“But--”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Column Leader, the old humans are </span>
  <em>
    <span>dead</span>
  </em>
  <span>. They were destroyed long ago. These are Broken. They are civilized beings. They’re primitive, but we’ve gotten the disease out of their systems. They’re not infected. They’re just confused.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He looked her in the eye, “If you thought everything you knew about the Compact was a lie, wouldn’t you be upset?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I wouldn’t do anything uncivilized,” Depta said with a look of disdain, “I’d ask questions! I wouldn’t lash out like some sort of--!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“They’re not animals, but nor are they ruling races. They’re children, not beasts. You don’t kill a child because they’ve done something wrong, you </span>
  <em>
    <span>educate</span>
  </em>
  <span> them.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Depta’s four eyes narrowed, “Column Leader Prime, they’ve broken the law. They’ve destroyed a lot of property, probably killed--”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“They’re scared, confused, and need to be shown the love the Compact has for them, not a boot heel.” Sharif snapped, “Our answer to everything </span>
  <em>
    <span>cannot</span>
  </em>
  <span> be to kill them whenever we feel like it. We must be more tolerant of the mistakes of others. It’s better if they make mistakes in our care than if they do it to some other poor species, is it not? Our job is to protect and serve the younger races. And I believe that means we must show kindness even when they lash out. We can’t throw our beliefs in the garbage because life’s tough. Confusion can be repaired, death cannot. We must convert them, not bomb them.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He held up a hand, “Now, if they have broken the law, they will be punished, but only according to a fair trial. But we must keep their confusion in mind."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Depta grimaced, but nodded, “As you say, sir. What does that mean for us?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“It means we must mobilize a task force at once,” Sharif said.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He held up a hand, “</span>
  <em>
    <span>But,</span>
  </em>
  <span> not on a mission of extermination.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Sir?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He turned to look at the planet, “It’s not their fault. These Broken...these humans have found something they shouldn’t have. They think they’ve been lied to, that they’ve been betrayed. But it’s not their fault. They panicked and ran away from home. We can’t kill them for that. There is nothing in the law that says being wrong is a crime.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He sighed, “We have to find them, not to kill them, but make them see reason. We will persecute them according to the rule of law, not some barbaric notion of anger.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“But sir, they’re Broken. That practically guarantees--”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“The last two thousand years weren’t for nothing, Column Leader. Trust me, if we talk to them without spooking them, they’ll listen. They’re just confused, there’s no malice here. They think they’ve been living a lie, they don’t understand what’s happened. We just need to sit down and explain things like reasonable sapients.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He pointed at the picture of the trinket, and the ugly letters, “We have plans for this. We don't need to kill them. We just need to explain the truth to them.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He pointed out at the dead world in the distance, “We have to tell them </span>
  <em>
    <span>why</span>
  </em>
  <span>.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The column leader prime was in charge of the Kaedan Vault’s patrol fleet. The headquarters that he stood on, a fleet base, was mostly unfinished. It was barely a fifth of what its original specifications had been, designed to support a fleet in its quest to bring an unusually resistant enemy to heel. It was also planned to support future efforts to keep the repulsive things under control when the war was over.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>That changed, of course. Plans changed, the galaxy changed, and the station’s urgency disappeared.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>But the core was still there, and still orbited a dead world annihilated long ago. It sat where a mighty fortress had once stood. It sat in a place that was once called Saber Point.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. Pop goes the Weasel</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>An innocent criminal with common sense stumbles into a different movie.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>The observation deck opened on a huge starfield. The station hung at a Lagrange point intersecting the gravitational fields of several moons, visible from the window. They were scattered in a spread across the sky, like water droplets, further and further out from one another. The planet they orbited hung in space in the center of the frame. It was a large planet in the Goldilocks zone, rich with minerals, as were the moons. The sun was pleasant enough.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>And it being a planet in the Kaedan Vault, what did that say what the world once was?</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Lieutenant Okafor leaned forward onto her knees, hands clasped together under her chin. She seemed docile, but she could never relax like a civilian. Her eyes darted across the starscape with a sharpshooter’s eye, and an officer’s experience.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The lieutenant sat on a bench that was a little too big but was all that would accommodate her in the lounge. It was empty, with any who entered not wanting to disturb the lone occupant. Or the lone </span>
  <em>
    <span>Broken</span>
  </em>
  <span> occupant. Even in her mind, she spat that word with disgust.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>A cloud of stellar dust drifted by.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Beautiful, isn’t it?” said a voice.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She looked up to see a Tribune. Not a Space Forces officer, a civilian. He was dressed in pilot’s garb, with a pistol at his side. Some sort of free trader. He sat down easily next to her and looked out at the stars.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Okafor looked outside herself. Her eyes twitched.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“No. No, it’s not.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He looked at her, a little surprised.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“It’s </span>
  <em>
    <span>desolate</span>
  </em>
  <span>. Wiped out. Look at those craters.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She gestured to the moons, and the barren world, “That’s not beauty out there. That’s...that’s destruction. That’s the end. That’s </span>
  <em>
    <span>death</span>
  </em>
  <span>.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“But I mean, isn’t there a certain beauty in it?” the pilot asked. His voice was odd. It was as if he hadn’t heard that sort of anger before, “like... an ironic sort of beauty. Surreal, perhaps?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Beauty is in the eye of the beholder.” Okafor said, "especially when you've seen the battlefields I have."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Even a battlefield has a strange sense of beauty. Those surreal moments soldiers always talk about. There's also beauty in ruins. Abandoned buildings, ancient ruins, all sorts of things like that. I mean, ruins can be pretty, but what's the difference between them and places abandoned only twenty years ago?"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Okafor supposed he had a point.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"And what about the stars? Does something about </span>
  <em>
    <span>them </span>
  </em>
  <span>offend you?" His voice was half in jest, "shall I put them out for you, my lady?"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Okafor's mouth flickered.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He laughed a little himself, "so, </span>
  <em>
    <span>beholder</span>
  </em>
  <span>, what's beautiful for you, if starfields don’t do it?"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"A sunset," Okafor said simply.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The Tribune snorted a little, without derision. He honestly seemed surprised, "how conventional!"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She tilted her head a bit, "I suppose it is. I like the desert too, I guess."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The Tribune crossed his arms, "ah, now it's interesting! I come from a jungle world. What's your desert like?"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Something in Okafor's professional heart was tugged. "Blue skies, desert grass, a nice wind, and purple sunset."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The Tribune nodded, but smiled a little, "awfully dry, isn't it?"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"A jungle's awfully wet, isn't it?" Okafor scoffed, "I couldn't imagine living in one of those...organic jungles."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"I couldn't imagine living anywhere without a jungle, urban or otherwise."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"I grew up in a city. We had plenty of jungle." She snapped.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Okafor fixed him with a gaze. Something about it unsettled the pilot.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The Tribune raised an eyebrow, "Well...if you grew up in a desert, what's so wrong about this world? I would think it would be perfect for you. Or close enough."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Well, I'm not predictable." She said sourly, "this isn't beauty. There’s life in a desert. This is </span>
  <em>
    <span>dead</span>
  </em>
  <span>."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He looked...not embarrassed, not ashamed, just...sort of confused.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She grimaced, and rubbed her face, "Look, Mr. free trader, this might be some field trip for you, but this place reminds me too much of home."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The Tribune tilted his head, confused, "ah...you’re homesick then?"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Okafor gave him a sidelong glare. Again, the man was perplexed. She turned her gaze forward.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The Tribune shrugged, “It’s alright. There’s no need to feel bad about it. Who isn’t homesick out here? Sure, the place isn’t nice, but at least we get a view of the stars…” he swept his hand across the deck.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Okafor’s gaze was unreadable for a long moment. The Tribune studied her carefully. He was still so confused.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She shrugged, "I couldn’t care less about the stars. They’re fine. This…” she pointed at the dead world, “</span>
  <em>
    <span>This</span>
  </em>
  <span> isn't beauty. A dead world without atmosphere or wind or people outside a pressure dome. Do you know what's beautiful? Blue skies. A horizon. Traffic jams. Buildings. Free air. Cities... people, god, I miss </span>
  <em>
    <span>people</span>
  </em>
  <span>. I miss the crowds. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Real </span>
  </em>
  <span>crowds, you know?"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She sighed. "I want my world back."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The Tribune gave her a sidelong glance, "well, maybe we can help you with that."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Okafor turned to look at him, "I've got people ready to come at a moment's notice. So talk, or get out."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He grinned out of the side of his mouth. It looked like a shark about to strike. "Very well, Lieutenant."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He sat back, "I'm Uvei Grein Shovet. I represent the Shade Flotilla, among others."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Okafor nodded, “I represent the Blue Doves.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Uvei blinked, “I’m sorry?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Blue Doves.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You mean Blue Avians, right?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Okafor rolled her eyes, “Translation error. Sorry.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Uvei chuckled a little, “And here I was worried I just met the wrong Broken. Well, at least one with pleasant conversation.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Okafor’s gaze narrowed. His mirth went out like a light switch.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Uh...anyway, the Shade Flotilla is still willing to accept your organization’s support, and in return, we are willing to shelter and supply you.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Okafor crossed her arms, “That’s nice, but you mind telling me what good that will do us right now?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Uvei’s cheer returned in a small smile. It was a little more disturbing than a human one. “Straight to the point then?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I prefer not to trust other people’s jamming equipment when I don’t know what they’re jamming. Or where they got it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She didn’t know if whatever gear he’d promised would keep their conversation private was some cheap back-alley deal or a toaster oven. Either way, she wasn’t going to give too much away.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“It took some doing, but we were able to get a shock path for your fleet through the blockade.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Uvei scratched an ear, “This would be a lot easier if you had better shock drives. What are you people using? Tuber batteries?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“It’s hard to have reliable drives when you don’t have a reliable space station,” Okafor said.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Uvei tilted his head, “Good point. It was difficult, but not impossible. It will require some precise timing, but we should be able to get your fleet through.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Okafor nodded, “Thanks. Where’s the data?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Uvei smirked, and tapped his head, “It’s in here and my ship’s databanks. Well, not all of it is in my head, but there’s enough to make a difference. I am to escort you in person once you get to the rendezvous point. I will travel by a different route, as I have other people to meet, but I assure you I will be there.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Okafor grimaced, “My superiors won’t like that. Why should we trust you?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“A fair question,” Uvei said, “I suppose there isn’t any reason aside from my paycheck. I don’t betray paying customers.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Okafor rolled her eyes, “Sure, until a janissary’s got you up against the wall and a gun to your head. Then you’ll be willing to cooperate.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Lieutenant, I’m offended! Do you think </span>
  <em>
    <span>they</span>
  </em>
  <span> would trust </span>
  <em>
    <span>me</span>
  </em>
  <span>?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Okafor leaned close, “Cut the bullshit. You’re loyal to the money not who it’s coming from. Sure, you’ll feel bad, but if it gets you out alive, what does it matter?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“There’s something to be said for not being dead…” the smuggler mumbled.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Okafor stood up slowly, “Yes there is. And that’s what we want to avoid. But I know your type. If the going gets a little rough, you’ll drop us like a hot potato. I assure you, if you even </span>
  <em>
    <span>think</span>
  </em>
  <span> of betraying us, you won’t even see it coming. You’ll be way worse off than anything the janissaries can do to you.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She leaned in close, “You know, with you off your ship, who </span>
  <em>
    <span>knows</span>
  </em>
  <span> what my people could be doing right now? We’ve got a </span>
  <em>
    <span>lot</span>
  </em>
  <span> of munitions. If you’re not at that rendezvous on time, don’t you wonder what might happen?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Uvei’s eyes were wide, but he remained calm, “Will you at least give me some leeway? Say I got delayed by a shift malfunction…”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“We’re not uncivilized, unlike </span>
  <em>
    <span>some</span>
  </em>
  <span> people,” Okafor growled, and slowly sat back down.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Uvei’s smile returned, “Well, with the threats settled, was there anything else?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yes, there was. You said you represent several groups.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I do. Not all, but I represent many local...privateers.” Uvei nodded.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"So are you saying you don't know anything about the Red Hand?" Okafor asked.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The Tribune paled. He looked truly disturbed. He shook his head, "oh, no no, you do </span>
  <em>
    <span>not </span>
  </em>
  <span>want to go near them, Lieutenant. The Red Hand is bad news. Haven't you heard the stories about the Blue Fire?"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Okafor made a mental note to seek her out now more than ever. Some pirate diva, even with advanced tech, wouldn't be a match for battle-hardened commandos.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Uvei only grew more anxious, "I know that look. You're not going to usurp her. Trust me, I'm not talking about her organization. I'm talking about the bitch herself. There’s all sorts of legends about her. She’s stronger than any Broken, can take hits like battle armor, and as fast as hell."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He leaned in, "they say she shoots lasers from her eyes."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Okafor leaned in as well, "</span>
  <em>
    <span>so do I.</span>
  </em>
  <span>"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Uvei snorted, "normally I like that in a client, but this is serious. She's a legend. More than that typical 'three meters tall' nonsense. I've seen footage of her in action. Not much, but it's enough. I do </span>
  <em>
    <span>not </span>
  </em>
  <span>associate with the Red Hand. And you don’t want to. End of story."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Okafor grimaced, “Very well.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Suddenly, she held up a hand, and touched her headset, “What? Bravo 2-1, say again?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>After a moment of listening, she cursed, “Copy that. Spread the word and return to the ship.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Uvei’s eyes widened, “That didn’t sound good.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He shot to his feet, “I’ve had enough clients to know when to pull out. I can contact you later, I’ll just take my leave…”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The smuggler was halfway to the door before he heard the click of a sidearm behind him.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You’re not going anywhere.” Okafor hissed.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The hatch opened, and a tall, broad human entered the room. He was dressed in a trench coat and held a submachine gun in his hands.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Uvei turned around with his hands up, “Lieutenant, I think you have </span>
  <em>
    <span>vastly</span>
  </em>
  <span> misunderstood our relationship.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span> Okafor walked forward, her pistol still on the smuggler, and pulled his sidearm from its holster, “This was a negotiation, but that was before we were compromised. This is a kidnapping now. Got it?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Oh. Shit.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The human pushed him toward the door. “Get moving.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Lieutenant, please--!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The large human raised his submachine gun, “You heard her.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Alright, I’m moving!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>There was another human in the hall. She was dressed in a trench coat as well. She shook her head to Okafor, then led the way with the Tribune in the center.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>They moved quickly and soon reached one of the central corridors. It was perhaps a dozen meters in height and several in width, enough to make a small street for shops and restaurants. There were a fair number of individuals around, but nowhere near that you might expect elsewhere in the rest of the Compact.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The smuggler couldn’t see anything that unusual among the visitors, but he guessed the humans knew something he didn’t.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Uvei whispered to the lieutenant, “So if I’m being kidnapped, could you tell me why--?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Quiet</span>
  </em>
  <span>,” Okafor hissed with a hand on her earpiece.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She cursed and looked at her subordinates. She gave a left thumbs-up and pointed her right thumb at her left. She rotated her right thumb upward and put it behind the left. She jerked her head left and right. The other two Swords made motions of affirmation and glanced back and forth.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Come on,” Okafor hissed to Uvei and led the way to a side hallway.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>They walked by another human in a trench coat who appeared to be window shopping. As they passed, he glanced around then fell into step with them. It appeared long trench coats were standard for the human party.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Uvei had been in these situations before. But he didn’t necessarily know who the good guys were this time. “Good guys” being a relative term.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Who's after you? What's it got to do with me?" Uvei asked.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Shut up." Okafor hissed.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>They passed into a side corridor off the main street. They weaved through the halls toward the outer edges of the station. The pattern appeared to be random, but Uvei guessed someone was directing them.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Figures in cloaks stalked their movement. Mostly Tribunes, but a mixture of others. They couldn’t get a good look at them.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The party moved through a long corridor that appeared to be used for storage when a pair of cloaked figures blocked their path. Two more at their backs. The human in the lead halted.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Immediately, she withdrew a cylinder from her coat, flicked a metal stick off the side, and flung it down the hall. The humans hid their eyes in their arms and Uvei did the same.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The flashbang detonated. The figures screamed with pain and reeled backward.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>At the same time, the man who brought up the rear turned swept low with his SMG and sprayed the two figures behind them with fire.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A burst stitched across one foe's chest and clipped the other's arm. Return fire skewed across the bulkhead to the side.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Okafor raised her pistol and fired three shots at one of the reeling figures before them. They went down with a scream.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>When the last target was down, Okafor glanced around, “Everyone alright? Jenkins?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The man with the submachine gun rubbed at his arm, “Round got my sleeve. It’s just hot is all.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Uvei stood up from cover, and turned to the humans, “I can see you’re in trouble. Please, can’t I just go and return to my ship--?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Two pistols, a small rifle, and an SMG were raised at him. Jenkins stepped forward and grabbed him by the arm, “Lieutenant?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Okafor narrowed her gaze at Uvei, “I told you. You’re not going anywhere.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Uvei raised his eyebrows, all four eyes wide, “Lieutenant, this is not my fight. I am a free agent. I don’t think they’re after me, I bet they’re only after me to get to you. There’s no need to kidnap me--”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Okafor stepped forward, grabbed the much larger Tribune’s collar, and hauled him down to her eye level, “You’re not going </span>
  <em>
    <span>anywhere</span>
  </em>
  <span>. I’m not giving you a </span>
  <em>
    <span>chance</span>
  </em>
  <span> to disappear. You’re coming with us.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Lieutenant--”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Okafor pointed at one of the bodies, “Do you know who they are?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“No, do you?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“No, I don’t. And that’s exactly my point. They could be privateers, a gang, or they could be Space Force special ops. Why would they be after you?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Because they’re after you,” Uvei said simply, “Lieutenant, I’ve been in this situation before. Why are they after you?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The lieutenant drew him closer, “You’re coming with us. </span>
  <em>
    <span>End of discussion.</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She released him and touched her headset for a second. “Anyway, the bad guys are between us and your side of the docking ring. So...think of it as ‘protection’ and not ‘kidnapping’.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Uvei grimaced. He’d been in </span>
  <em>
    <span>this</span>
  </em>
  <span> sort of situation as well.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Okafor gestured to her troops, “Move out!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>They rushed down the corridor and hung a left turn. Whatever group was after them, they’d gotten control of the space station’s command and control center. Pressure doors and force fields dropped at random to inhibit the human party’s progress. But it only served to slow them down, and couldn’t stop them. They still had a clear path to the human ship. However, they were cut off from the rest of the unit.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Their luck finally ran out when they turned the corner to one of the corridors on the outer hull. They passed a door to one of the observation domes, and the point Sword stepped into an intersection. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>A hail of energy bolts tore through her upper body, and she dropped to the deck.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Carey!” one of the humans shouted. The man with the SMG took cover at the intersection and lay down suppressive fire, “Trooper down!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The fourth human crouched low to drag the prone Sword out of the line of fire.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>A chunk of Carey’s head was missing. He looked away, then picked up her rifle. “Carey bought it!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Uvei turned to see more enemies arrive behind them, “Lieutenant!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Okafor turned around and dove into cover herself. Jenkins lay down fire. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>These guys were more on the ball than the last ones. They took cover and had submachine guns of their own.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Can I have my gun back?!” Uvei shouted, hands over his head as enemy fire ripped over.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Hell no!” Okafor shouted back, then touched her headset, “Alpha Six to </span>
  <em>
    <span>Dogsled</span>
  </em>
  <span>! McWilliams, we’re cut off! I need--!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>A burst of fire clipped the box she hid behind, and she flinched. She growled in frustration and shouted something else.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Uvei leaned out when the enemy fire halted for a moment, then ducked down again.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The brief lull in fire let him hear Okafor shout, “McWilliams! I don't care what you gotta do, </span>
  <em>
    <span>cut loose!</span>
  </em>
  <span>"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She looked at Uvei, her hand still on her comm, then at Carey’s body.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Okafor grimaced, "...Jack-in-the-box on our location! Tell the rest of our people to get to the nearest airlock."</span>
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>
  <strong>
    <span>XXXXX</span>
  </strong>
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"...Roger that, ma'am! Jack-in-the-box!" McWilliams said from the bridge of the </span>
  <em>
    <span>Dogsled, </span>
  </em>
  <span>formerly the </span>
  <em>
    <span>Bulk Discount. </span>
  </em>
  <span>He</span>
  <em>
    
  </em>
  <span>looked down at the former shuttle jockey in the adapted pilot’s seat, "you heard the skipper!"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Jack-in-the-box, aye!"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The pilot leaned in his seat to shout aft, "Cutter, I need those strings off us!"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"With pleasure!"</span>
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The salvage ship was small, but it was designed for heavy-duty salvage work. A pair of massive cutting lasers meant for taking apart warship armor unfolded on articulated arms and cut the large clamps to the station.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The ship's forward thrusters fired as articulated arms tore and batted aside the fuel lines. Another laser targeted the most volatile mixtures. There was a flash and the fuel source exploded.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The </span>
  <em>
    <span>Dogsled</span>
  </em>
  <span> ripped free of the space station, pieces of the dock still attached. Her thrusters flared to stop her rearward momentum, then she slid to the side. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Asteroid point defense guns and more cutting lasers swiveled to fire into the docks. More segments ruptured. The power grid for half the dock’s systems went down. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The main fuel depot was targeted and struck. It was still intact, for the most part, but critically damaged. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The atmosphere spewed outward from the dock. More explosions rippled out. Flames spurted into the dark. Dockworkers were silhouetted in the lights. They moved to fight the flames or to escape into the safety of the core.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Ship captains and crew panicked. They fired their main engines to pull free, and two totaled themselves in the process.</span>
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Dogsled</span>
  </em>
  <span> wore pieces of her kill as she moved along the station. She hugged the hull. The enemy’s shields stood out a fair distance from the hull to protect EVA workers and docked ships. It provided the </span>
  <em>
    <span>Dogsled </span>
  </em>
  <span>protection as well.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A dozen missiles popped off the salvage ship’s side and rode laser guidance to specific points on the station. Comms and delicate sensor arrays were blown away. They couldn’t see and they couldn’t scream.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Another of the </span>
  <em>
    <span>Dogsled's </span>
  </em>
  <span>cutting lasers turned and aimed at precise points in the hull.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The station shook, and more alarms sounded.</span>
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>
  <span>In the station’s command and control center, a number of the cloaked Tribunes swayed on their feet. Several of them stood near the hatch, in a standoff with a security team. Two of the cloaks had thrown staff members out of their posts, and a handful stood near the station manager’s position. The lead cloak had a pistol in her hand. She didn’t point it at anyone, but it was there.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>All eyes turned toward the windows as debris spread across the stars. A figure in a spacesuit whirled past.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Get your defenses online! Destroy that ship!” the leader shouted.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The station manager growled. She had no idea what was going on. These people just came into her command center and threatened her crew. She tried to go along with them to protect her people, but at this point, did that matter?</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Damage control teams to the docking ring,” she barked to the crew, “Get the security teams in there if you have to!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The mercenary scowled, “What are you doing? We need those teams! Open fire! Use your tractor beams!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Are you mad?!” The manager snarled, “My docking ring just got trashed! We’ve got much bigger problems than letting them go! If that fuel depot goes we’re all dead, I’ve got people and ships all over the place I can't risk hitting, and our comms are down! And do you think </span>
  <em>
    <span>we</span>
  </em>
  <span> have the tractors to stop them?"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The merc was about to snap something, but the manager held up a hand. “I don’t care what kind of turf war you’ve got going on here, but if we don’t do something, we’re </span>
  <em>
    <span>all</span>
  </em>
  <span> dead!"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She turned away, “Someone get her out of here, I've got a station to save!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>
  <strong>
    <span>XXXXX</span>
  </strong>
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The Navy Swords shouted at each other over the din. "Get your buckets on if you don't wanna pop! SOP! Jenkins, SOP!"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The Tribune had no idea what any of that meant.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The humans wore hardsuits under their coats; they were compact but capable suits designed for battle, and could be vacuum-sealed in an emergency. A visor sat where their hood would normally be. Each human pulled their visor up over their head. It unfolded the rest of the helmet at the back and sealed at a semi-circular neck ring on the collar. It formed a compact soft helmet.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Okafor glared at Uvei, "I hope you've got a helmet, otherwise you've got thirty seconds to cram yourself into a rescue ball!"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Uvei had no intention of climbing into an emergency spacesuit that could be best described as a ball with an air tank. He quickly pulled a hood from the back of his outfit. Unlike the human hardsuits, the visor was collapsible as well as the rest of the helmet. He quickly sealed it. His stomach jumped as he wondered what exactly they were going to do.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The soldiers continued firing, as Okafor muttered something under her breath.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Seals, oxygen, power...Lock your seals, check your gloves, oxy can’t be too fine, check your power, be sure it’s right, pop goes the Astro!</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Okafor braced.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She exchanged a glance with Uvei.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>His clear visor revealed not the terror she expected. More anticipation. And the terror of battle reflected from her soul.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>In the blink of an eye, something went through one side of the bulkhead and out the other. The entire compartment blew out in the direction of the first penetration.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Okafor curled up into a ball as the artificial gravity failed and she flew out into the stars. She tumbled and twirled. Something hit her hard in the back but didn't penetrate.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Then some</span>
  <em>
    <span>one</span>
  </em>
  <span> grabbed the back of her jacket.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The lieutenant rolled and grabbed the other person. Standard procedure in Jack-in-the-box.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>A face like a dog snarled at her through a visor.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Without even thinking she swept her legs in to push off his chest, and moved her right arm in to fire her pistol. The explosion of blood, bone, and liquid coolant blew across her visor.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She tried to wipe it off, but only smeared the mixture. Her visor’s polarization sensors went haywire. The liquid boiled violently, and then froze across her visor, mixed with the rapidly-heating coolant.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Something bright flared through the few clear spots. Weapons fire. She must've drifted into the bad guys' range.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Shit. Fucking Jack-in-the-box, fucking Jack-in-the-box!</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Mayday, mayday, mayday!" She snapped into her radio, "This is Alpha six! </span>
  <em>
    <span>Dogsled</span>
  </em>
  <span>, I could use some help over here!"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>"Roger that ma'am. ETA ten minutes!</span>
  </em>
  <span>"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>All she had to do was wait.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It wasn't happening again. It couldn't be. What were the odds? It wasn't a man's blood across her visor. Not a </span>
  <em>
    <span>man's</span>
  </em>
  <span> blood this time.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Fuck me.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She struggled and kicked. She clawed at her visor, desperately trying to make her nails work through the gloves. They were still shooting around her.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Not again. Not lost in the dark again. Ten minutes. It would be just ten minutes.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Not ten hours. Not seeing her ship go down again. Not trapped in the night sky. Not again.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Not again.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The lieutenant rolled and pitched and writhed in zero gravity. She was blind and alone.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Kaleidoscope.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She couldn't escape, she had no maneuvering system, she tumbled through every astronaut's worst nightmare. Being all alone in the night.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>A clawed hand grabbed her leg. Her spinning motion dragged them along for the ride, but the force was counteracted by an opposite reaction from the new person. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Okafor rolled into the alien's torso and pulled her gun around. She squeezed the trigger.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It fizzled with a dead cap.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She snarled in rage and whipped it around, using touch and the vibrations in the suit to find her orientation. This was a surface. This was something she could do.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Something she could </span>
  <em>
    <span>kill</span>
  </em>
  <span>. She raised the butt of the pistol to smash the Tribune's face in.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The arms grabbed her shoulders and </span>
  <em>
    <span>head-butted </span>
  </em>
  <span>her.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It didn't damage either of their suits, but it did ring her bell.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She felt the same visor touch hers more gently, and a distant voice shouted, "Lieutenant! This is a shitty place to die! Stop panicking!"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"...is that you, puppy?" She croaked.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Lieutenant, I can't hear you! You'll have to shout! I don’t know where your audio plate is!" Uvei shouted, "I hope you didn't just die in there!"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Okafor shook her head to clear it. Touching helmets in case they lost comms was an old tactic; sound didn’t travel in a vacuum, but the vibrations from one helmet to another would so long as they were physically touching. However, the surface area didn’t always match, and spacers would have to shout with some suits.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thus a standard piece of equipment in modern spacesuits was a conductive plate on the forehead of each suit specifically for this purpose so they wouldn’t have to shout and waste O2.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Okafor pawed around, orienting herself upward so he could hopefully see, and gestured to the plate on her head.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Uvei moved a bit, and touched it, “That’s an odd place for an audio plate! Mine’s on the side!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He shifted again, “You alright in there?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“My visor’s fucked up. I can’t see. How’d you get over here?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Maneuvering unit. Is yours damaged?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Okafor furrowed her brow, “I don’t </span>
  <em>
    <span>have</span>
  </em>
  <span> a maneuvering unit, I’ve got my gun. Where’d you get yours?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Standard equipment in my suit. Gods, where in the world did you get </span>
  <em>
    <span>your</span>
  </em>
  <span> back-alley bargain?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“How’d you get a maneuvering unit in this thing?!” Okafor demanded and slapped his sleeve.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“How could you </span>
  <em>
    <span>not</span>
  </em>
  <span>?” Uvei asked back.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Okafor cursed. Emergency human spacesuits typically had maneuvering units, but hers was supposedly too small for that. Just a hardsuit meant to fit under a coat.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>So the Compact made a compact maneuvering unit since we’ve been gone.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The Sword cursed again, “Do you have anything to clean my visor?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What </span>
  <em>
    <span>do </span>
  </em>
  <span>you have on you, Lieutenant?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Two more caps, a knife, and my </span>
  <em>
    <span>head</span>
  </em>
  <span>, Mr. Uvei.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Understood, I’ll figure something out…”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Hey, hold onto me for a second.” Okafor pulled out the knife she forgot she had, and carefully scraped the edge along the center of her visor.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She cleared enough to see. They were a fair distance from the space station, in a cloud of debris. Flares of small arms fire went back and forth. Her heads-up display picked out several UEC beacons.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Dogsled</span>
  </em>
  <span>” was highlighted in the distance. The ship rolled slowly as she maneuvered away. Weapons fire was exchanged with the station.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>More debris was spread around the station’s core. It looked like the </span>
  <em>
    <span>Dogsled</span>
  </em>
  <span> had blown out the docking ring when they moved. The whole station was in a state of disarray. A few tug vehicles seized by members of her unit were moving about and picked up the drifting Swords. Okafor suddenly turned and grabbed Uvei by the shoulder. She touched her helmet to his.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You’re not planning on going anywhere, are you?” she growled.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Uh…"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"You're still coming with us."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Uh…yes, Lieutenant!"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He caught sight of Okafor's eyes through her visor. The outline of the bloodstains remained. Her adrenaline-fueled eyes burned with the fury of the sun to her right.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Uvei had had dealings with humans before. He’d met Broken who were rude, headstrong, or tough. But there was something about </span>
  <em>
    <span>these </span>
  </em>
  <span>Broken. He didn't even know if it was conscious.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Of course!” he said, “Why wouldn’t I?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Good.” she snapped and backed away from his audio plate.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>After a few seconds, a thought occurred to Uvei. He gestured to her, and they connected audio plates.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Hey, what does Jack in the box mean?” he asked, “One of your people said something about getting buckets on before you pop...what was all that about a Jack in the box?"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Okafor almost laughed, "it's a nursery rhyme."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Uvei looked at her, “You teach rhymes about that to your children?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Okafor glared, "A </span>
  <em>
    <span>Tribune's</span>
  </em>
  <span> saying that?"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I just didn’t think…”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Why don’t you keep on doing that?” Okafor snapped.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>A small tug, little more than the spaceborne equivalent of a flatbed truck, flared into view. It had a crew compartment, a storage bay, and a skeletal section that led to the main engine. It burned retrograde to reach the pair.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jenkins was clipped to a safety line attached to the storage bay, along with two other Swords. He reached out a hand, “Lieutenant, your ride’s here!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Okafor beat on Uvei’s arm, “Thrusters!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Uvei almost laughed and made the Tribune equivalent of a thumbs up. He still wasn’t on their comm frequencies. He burned what little fuel he had left and reached out for the tug.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>With a little hesitation, Jenkins grabbed the larger being and pulled both in. All three rebounded against the storage bay, and the other Swords seized them before they could drift away. They clipped lines to the new arrivals.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“New ride?” Okafor asked.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“A gift from our hosts,” Jenkins grinned through his visor and stuck a thumb back at the space station.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The interior of the storage bay could double as a passenger compartment for situations just like this. It wasn’t comfortable, but it wasn’t supposed to be.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The tug burned toward the </span>
  <em>
    <span>Dogsled</span>
  </em>
  <span>. The salvage ship maneuvered away from the space station. It was a miracle there had been no return fire yet. That wouldn’t last long.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>A tractor beam caught their tug and began pulling them in. Two more tugs were in view and being retrieved as well. A fourth spacecraft, a small personal trade vessel, was clutched in mechanical arms close to the hull. They’d picked up Uvei’s craft. It made a good haul for the fleet.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“McWilliams, get us out of here!” Okafor barked.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The main engines burned, and they rocketed at best speed toward shift limits. The acceleration made it a challenge to pull the tugs into the small hangar and cargo bays, but they did it.</span>
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Three body-bags were on the deck in an hour.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Special Warfare Operator Doris Carey, along with Special Warfare Operators Alida Parri and Lazar Zabala. The other two had been killed by enemy fire.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Lieutenant Okafor looked at the black bags with her arms crossed.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>McWilliams stood nearby, his eyes fixed on the Tribune in their midst. His sidearm was in his hand. Two guards stood to either side with submachine guns.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Okafor realized these were their first military casualties since they’d come through the black hole. Not accident, by foul play, or suicide, their first troopers killed by enemy fire.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Uvei looked at Okafor, the bodies, and McWilliams.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Okafor slowly looked down at her boots.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>McWilliam’s grip on his pistol tightened.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Okafor turned to Uvei. His alien eyes darted side to side, as the guards stepped back.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Okafor stepped forward. She looked up at the tall being. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Say the word, skipper,” McWilliams muttered, “just say the word.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Uvei looked at her.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Okafor looked back.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She glanced at McWilliams and jerked her head toward the hatch.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Once out of the dog's earshot, she spoke in a low voice, "put him under guard in quarters. We need to get the fleet to the rendezvous point. We've been compromised, but I don't know if they're compromised or not. Either way, we're pushing our luck staying in Commie territory."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>McWilliams spared another glare toward the doorway, "anything else?"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Yeah, remember the admiral's orders. No stairs."</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0007"><h2>7. Underfoot</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Innocent criminal deals with angry folks, everyone needs therapy, and deep space is creepy.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Credit to Dylan Tullos for the summary.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Uvei felt the ship’s drop out of shock space but didn’t know what else was going on. He only knew they’d docked when he felt a shift in artificial gravity and the ship shudder on landing.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He got up from the bunk in his small cabin and retrieved what few belongings he had; anything that happened to be in his pockets. They still wouldn’t let him back on his ship.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It was odd that this wasn't the first time this sort of thing had happened to him.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The Broken weren’t too cruel, they weren’t like some of the more aggressive the pirates or privateers he’d dealt with. Much to their reluctance, they’d put him under guard in a crew cabin. They were quite rude, which was expected, and he’d run into aggression against Tribunes before.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But he was perplexed by the utter </span>
  <em>
    <span>hatred </span>
  </em>
  <span>they all had. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>As he’d anticipated, the guards opened the door.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“C’mon, puppy,” one ordered.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Of course,” Uvei replied, and followed them out.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>One stopped, and held up a pair of zip-ties, “Arms out.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Is this necessary?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The guard’s expression didn’t change.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Uvei smiled a little, “Ah well. I’ve been through worse.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He stuck his arms out freely.</span>
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Once his wrists were clipped together, they moved through the cramped vessel, and reached an airlock. Lieutenant Okafor waited there with her second in command. She shot a glare at the free agent.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>White Room secure; you are clear to proceed.</span>
  </em>
  <span>” a voice crackled through the speakers.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Through a pair of small windows, Uvei could see there was a universal crew access arm connected to the other side. The airlock cycled and allowed the party out into a small chamber on the end of the access arm. It looked designed for final checks before access to a spacecraft. Uvei had to stoop a little to enter the access arm.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>WR-1</span>
  </em>
  <span>” was stamped in English on a panel. Not that Uvei could read it. His translator worked for spoken words but not written language. Two human technicians in jumpsuits stopped in their work to watch the party. That hatred burned again, tinged with curiosity.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The party proceeded out of the chamber down the arm’s short corridor. Long unbroken windows were on either side, and Uvei could see down into a vast cavernous hangar.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Many spacecraft -- various shuttles, drones, and other ships -- were docked in the chamber. Either hanging from clamps on the ceiling, in alcoves on the walls, or on the ground. He could see his ship in a corner close to the main door. The salvage ship itself hung from the ceiling, the largest in the chamber. The fact that the ship could even fit in the hangar without crowding it was a surprise. That implied a very large ship. Most pirates, mercenaries, and privateers couldn’t afford ships this big.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Hell, even some star nations can barely afford them...</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Uvei furrowed his brow at a trio of workers who emerged from a shuttle just under the access arm.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Humans. And one of them’s a pilot.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Well, some humans were unique, despite what the Compact said. But even so, some species just weren’t cut out for…</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>More pilots. They’re human too.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He saw a section of figures in adaptive camouflage uniforms jogging around the perimeter of the hangar in formation, six by two. The soldiers all had the same flat faces.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Broken janissaries?</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Uvei furrowed his brow further. The entire hangar was crewed by Broken.</span>
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The smuggler slammed into the side of the doorframe.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>A guard behind him snorted with laughter, and the other sighed, “Jeez, Pluto, watch where you’re going!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Okafor turned around, rolled her eyes, and dragged Uvei by the arm. The hatch opened on a wide corridor, mostly bereft of personnel, except another section of human janissaries, and two distinct figures. They were two human women, one perhaps a head shorter than he was, and another shorter than her. The first wore the adaptive camouflage of the janissaries, while the other wore a dark blue uniform. Lieutenant Okafor and McWilliams stood to attention and saluted.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Colonel Holland, Captain Mrowka. Lieutenant Okafor and Lieutenant JG McWilliams reporting,” Okafor said.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The authority figures returned the salutes, and the shorter woman nodded, “Lieutenant. At ease.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Okafor put her hands behind her back, “With all due respect, I didn’t expect to see either of you here.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The larger woman smiled a little, “We thought we’d come down to meet our guest.” She pointed with her chin at Uvei, “Aren’t you going to introduce us?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Okafor turned to gesture to Uvei, “This is Uvei Grein Shovet, representative of the Shade Flotilla.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Uvei waved, his hands still tied together, “Greetings, who are you two? I presume you are some sort of authority. Who is in command here?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The smaller woman narrowed her gaze at him, “I am. I’m Captain Mrowka.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Uvei nodded, a little unsettled by her gaze, “Can I ask why you’re keeping me prisoner? I must tell you I’m not very valuable.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You may not,” The captain said, with barely a glance, and turned to the other officers.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The larger woman looked at Okafor, “Lieutenant, are you sure this is the right guy?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yes, Colonel,” Okafor replied.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Uvei nodded, "yes, yes I am! I believe I was the guide your people were after? Unless things have changed…"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“They haven’t. We’re just speeding things along,” Okafor said.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She was about to say more when there were murmurs behind them. One of the guards roughly pushed Uvei forward a few meters, then pulled him to a halt. He turned slowly and saw six of the Swords emerged from the access arm. They carried three body bags.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The smaller officer, the captain, walked forward to stand alongside the grim procession. The colonel--Holland--, her face was slack as she looked at the body bags. Mrowka looked down at one and exchanged a knowing look with Okafor and the colonel.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Uvei felt more eyes on him. He was again aware that the entire corridor was filled with humans. A corner of his mind noted that the ceiling was lower than he was used to, the sides of the hallway a little skinnier. Whatever this ship was, it wasn’t built to Compact standard gauge.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>What is going on here?</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Slowly, Colonel Holland turned toward the Tribune. She looked like a beast about to charge. The corner of her mouth curled upward, revealing blunt human teeth. Her hand twitched to a holster at her side. Then both hands curled into fists.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Uh oh.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Her uniform shimmered slightly, and Uvei realized it was the same the Broken janissaries had. And that insignia on her collar was </span>
  <em>
    <span>really</span>
  </em>
  <span> big...</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Captain Mrowka approached the Tribune and crossed her arms. She looked him up and down. Uvei had the feeling of being a bug under a microscope.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Are you in charge, or is this just your ship?” he asked.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Mrowka didn’t respond immediately. She eyed his ears, then both sets of eyes. “I’ve never met one of you face-to-face.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>That</span>
  </em>
  <span> wasn’t what he’d expected. “...Excuse me?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’ve never met a Tribune face-to-face.” Mrowka repeated, “I would’ve thought you’d be taller.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“That’s what they said when I was in primary school…” Uvei said with a small grin.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Mrowka’s smirk didn’t reach her eyes. She still studied him.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“If you don’t mind me asking, how have you not met a Tribune face-to-face?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I do mind,” Mrowka said absently, then her gaze narrowed, “Do you all smell like wet dogs?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Your crew didn’t exactly give me much chance to freshen up. I would’ve worn more suitable attire to meet someone of your grandeur.” Uvei replied, with his small grin again.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Mrowka’s face darkened.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Suddenly an alarm wailed. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>General quarters, general quarters. All hands to battle stations! Set material condition Zebra throughout the ship. Unknown warp point detected. Repeat, unknown warp point detected.</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Captain Mrowka turned away, pulled out her PDA, and hit a control, “Rivera, what’s happening?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Captain, our shadow is back.</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Shadow?” Uvei asked, “What is that, some rival gang?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“None of your business. Lieutenant, get that dog secured.” the colonel ordered.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Wait, bring him to the briefing room on the command deck," Mrowka ordered. At the colonel’s questioning look, Mrowka turned to the Tribune, "Mr. Uvei, you've traveled around space quite a lot, correct?"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Yes, ma'am." He grinned yet again.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Do you know anything about Naiads?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He frowned quizzically at her, “I’ve had a few encounters…”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Alright, then he could be useful," Mrowka said, looking at the colonel.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Holland scowled, "lieutenant, keep him under a tight leash. I'm sending a fireteam with you."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Well, at least I'm worthy of the correct pronoun…" Uvei muttered.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>A ghost of a smile almost graced Okafor's face.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Get moving before I shove a grenade up your ass. Trust me, it's not pretty."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Uvei grimaced, "I know, it makes a mess."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Okafor scoffed and shoved him forward.</span>
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>
  <strong>
    <span>XXXXX</span>
  </strong>
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"All stations ready, Captain," Rivera reported as Mrowka walked across the command deck.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Thank you, Commander," Mrowka replied and sat down at her station by the admiral.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She examined the holo imager. The shadow hovered on the edge of the system on long-range scanners. Moreno studied the image deep in thought. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Mrowka turned her dark gaze on Moreno, "admiral? What’s up?"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Moreno looked at the holotank, "it's still just sitting there."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Same as before,” Mrowka said, nodding.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"It still hasn't replied to any hails." Rivera reported to Mrowka, "as usual."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Have there been any more unusual transmissions?" the captain asked.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Not yet."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Mrowka grimaced, “At least it gives us more data for Hawkins.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Rivera nodded, and glanced at the sensor division, “Orientation of closest Space Force presence?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>An icon popped up on the holotank, and a rating reported, “Two-one-zero by three-zero-zero.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Rivera checked his interface, “It’s put itself between us and the nearest Compact garrison."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"So just like before." Mrowka nodded.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Moreno still peered at the holotank.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Why's a Naiad stalking us?</span>
  </em>
  <span> She wondered. From what they knew, Naiads didn't show much interest in the Compact. If they did, it was a repeat of what happened to the Compact scout cruiser. So what would they want with a few leaky rowboats?</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Hawkins and his staff had some theories. Some ranged from sane to ridiculous, from wanting zoo exhibits to something about a unique signature from black hole travel. It didn’t explain the signal they’d received. If they didn’t care about the rest of the galactic community, why would they make a compilation of distress calls? And why </span>
  <em>
    <span>Compact </span>
  </em>
  <span>distress calls?</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Moreno sat back in her chair. Whatever it was, they had to shift again. “Signal all ships to make best speed for shift limits. Let’s get out of here.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Shift limits, aye!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“She’s pretty big,” Mrowka commented in a low voice.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Size isn’t everything.” Moreno muttered back, “How’s propulsion?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Engineering says we’re not overtaxing her </span>
  <em>
    <span>too </span>
  </em>
  <span>much, but they’re a little worried.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Moreno nodded. Every time they shifted the battleship followed them. Was there </span>
  <em>
    <span>anywhere</span>
  </em>
  <span> they could go without it following them? To be honest she doubted it. If the ancient Commies could track them, for something that even the modern Compact feared it would be child’s play.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>So that brought her back to the question. What did it want? Why did it save them?</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>A sigh rippled through the battleship as her sublight engines made a burn. Hopefully, once they were out of Compact space it might stop following them.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Mrowka glanced at one of the bridge security cameras. “Admiral, our ‘guest’ may have some answers for us. I had security bring him up to see some of our data. Every little bit of info helps.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Moreno nodded, “Good thinking.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She sighed, “Even common knowledge in this day and age helps. I hate being trapped in the future.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>There were a few chuckles around the bridge.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Bit of an understatement.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Moreno stood up, “Well then...Captain? Shall we speak with the smuggler?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Mrowka nodded, and got to her feet, “Stand down to condition II. Commander Rivera, ping me the </span>
  <em>
    <span>instant</span>
  </em>
  <span> that thing moves. You have the deck.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yes, ma’am. I have the deck.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The pair of officers walked to the command deck’s hatch. The armored double doors slowly opened on a corridor, with several hatches to either side and an elevator at the end. It was a standard command deck access format seen throughout the fleet; layer after layer of armor protected the bridge, and the only means of entry was via maintenance accessways or the elevator. Both were a kill zone. Even this short corridor would give the bridge crew time to defend themselves and bleed enemy boarding parties.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Mrowka frowned at the corridor. She wondered if regulations banned any sort of decoration in the hallway. She shook her head and caught up with Moreno. They moved to one of the hatches, where a Marine guard stood. He saluted and opened the door.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Inside were three Marines, one Marine colonel leaned against a wall, and one Tribune standing awkwardly in a corner. There was a slightly-scrunched chair at the end of the table.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Colonel Holland straightened up as they entered, and quickly blocked their path.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She hissed, “Admiral? Captain? With all due respect, I don’t think it’s wise for both of you to be in the same room as a Tribune!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Stand down, Colonel,” Moreno replied quietly.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Admiral!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Holland glanced at Uvei out of the corner of her eye, “Admiral, in my opinion, bringing him up here was grossly irresponsible. We could’ve piped it down to him in quarters.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"This was faster, Holland," Mrowka said in a low voice, and scratched her head, "...and it just didn't occur to me."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Holland raised an eyebrow, her mouth open slightly, “You should’ve! We can’t have you risking your lives! It’s my responsibility to keep you safe, and--"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Moreno put up a hand, and spoke at a normal volume, "Thank you colonel, but I hardly think even a Tribune can survive eight rifles at close range."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Uvei's eyes flicked down to Holland's needler. Then to her fists.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>As Moreno stepped over to the table, Holland reached out to grab her arm, "Admiral, I have to protest this, you two are--"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Moreno's head swiveled like a main battery. Holland's hand froze, inches from her arm. The colonel slowly closed her fingers.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“There are </span>
  <em>
    <span>enlisted </span>
  </em>
  <span>present, </span>
  <em>
    <span>Colonel</span>
  </em>
  <span>.” Moreno hissed so only Holland could hear.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The Marine winced. She glared at Uvei, pointed two fingers at her eyes, then at his.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Holland glared at Uvei, pointed two fingers at her eyes, then at his.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Moreno crossed her arms, “Mr. Uvei, I’m Admiral Moreno. I lead the Blue Avians. I’m sorry to bring you here in such a state, but as you can imagine, we’re on a bit of a time crunch. I trust you’ve been treated well?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Uvei finally tore his gaze from Holland and looked at her. The admiral was another woman short for a human. He wondered what that was about.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He smiled, “I can’t say I’m complaining that much, trust me, I’ve been in worse hands.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>His eyes flicked down to his bound wrists, and back up, “I will say that I’m not very valuable. Except, of course, for what you’re paying me for.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Moreno nodded, “You’ll get your payment eventually. Don’t worry, we’re not going to hurt you. We don’t have an exact timetable on when we’re going to release you. I’m sorry.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She glanced at one of the meeting room monitors, “Did you see the Naiad?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Uvei frowned, “I did. Can’t your ships move any faster?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Holland glared behind Moreno. Uvei blinked.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“We haven’t had any trouble with them before,” Mrowka said, “We can warp before it comes near.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Warp?” Uvei hit his earpiece a bit, “Never mind. I wonder what it was doing. Has anyone seen one do that?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What’s so unusual about it? We’ve seen it before,” the battleship captain asked with a disinterested voice.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Uvei raised an eyebrow, “Really? I don’t like to stick around Naiads, but I’ve never seen one stay like that. Even if they’re passive, they usually at least </span>
  <em>
    <span>move</span>
  </em>
  <span>. Most ships don’t stay long enough to see what they’re going to do, or even if they're actually there. Nobody wants to find out if it's a ghost or...whatever else it may be. But Naiads tend to move out before friendly ships have shocked out. I half expected them to try and destroy your flotilla, or at least to see one of their errands…”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Errands?” Mrowka asked.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Uvei blinked, then realized what she meant, “Oh, sorry. It’s what some of us traders call...whatever it is Naiads do. They do things that don’t make any sense to us, but probably make sense to them. I don’t know who started it, we just call them...errands. How would groceries look to an insect?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“An insect? What’s that supposed to mean?” Holland growled.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Have you seen the size of my ship?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Holland tilted her head, then shook it. He </span>
  <em>
    <span>did</span>
  </em>
  <span> have a point.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Uvei grimaced, “I don’t see them that often, but I know enough to say that it was strange it didn’t move </span>
  <em>
    <span>at all</span>
  </em>
  <span>.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Uvei glanced around the room, “I’m not sure why they’d be interested in your ship, though I certainly am. Where did you get it? I’ve never seen one like this before. Hell, </span>
  <em>
    <span>who’d</span>
  </em>
  <span> you get it from? I haven’t seen many privateers with a ship much larger than a battlecruiser...or is this just a mega freighter?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Moreno remained impassive, “Thank you, Mr. Uvei. The colonel will see to it that you’re taken to appropriate quarters. We will consult with you on navigating the blockade, and once we’re through, you’ll be released.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Uvei blinked, then eyed the colonel, “Well...thank you, Ms. Moreno. I hope I can continue to be of assistance.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Moreno noticed the smuggler’s gaze. Her expression was opaque.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Holland gestured to the Marine fireteam. They took the Tribune by the arms. When they went toward the hatch, the colonel held up a hand.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Captain? Admiral? Be my guest.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Mrowka and Moreno hesitated for a moment, then realized what she wanted and walked out the hatch first. Holland stepped out as well and stood between them and the fireteam as they led Uvei to the elevator.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>When the doors shut, Holland turned back, “Well, now that that’s over with…”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Colonel, I don’t think we needed you for this. Don't you have something better to do?" Mrowka asked in a low voice, "like sleep?"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"I'll sleep when I'm dead. I don't have anything for the next hour."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Holland cursed, “Dogs. Did you hear him? ‘Ms’. Like you’re some sort of...of...”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She cursed again, “Commies.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Make sure your people know he’s </span>
  <em>
    <span>not</span>
  </em>
  <span> a commie,” Mrowka said, “He’s one of the few we’ve got who isn’t.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, yeah…”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Mrowka’s eyes narrowed, “I </span>
  <em>
    <span>mean</span>
  </em>
  <span> it, Holland.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Holland returned the glare, then turned to Moreno, “Admiral, that was still very irresponsible. We can’t afford to lose either of you.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“There’s a chain of command for a reason, Colonel,” Moreno said.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She looked at the closed elevator doors, “What were your impressions?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Mrowka frowned, “It tells us what the others told us about the Naiads; absolutely nothing valuable. Anybody who’s ever seen a movie can tell you this is weird.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“It </span>
  <em>
    <span>is</span>
  </em>
  <span> an alien entity, Mrowka,” Moreno pointed out.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You’ll forgive me for thinking it’s hostile, ma’am," Mrowka said coldly.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Moreno nodded, then looked at Holland, "I want him away from the other prisoners and well taken care of. I mean it."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Yes ma'am--"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"I </span>
  <em>
    <span>mean </span>
  </em>
  <span>it," Moreno growled.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Holland blinked, "yes ma'am. I'll see to it."</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0008"><h2>8. 1202 Alarm</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Honest criminals and honest cops.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>"Hey, it's a chef's surprise today."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Uvei sat up on the small bed to see Lieutenant Okafor standing in the doorway.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"I say it's a chef's surprise because I'm not sure what the hell is in these MREs of yours," she said and walked in with a tray of food. It was a plate piled high with a few boxes, and a rehydrated meal in the center.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Hello, Lieutenant! I can't say I'm unhappy to see you," Uvei said, and smiled a little, "but I can say I'm surprised."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Okafor put the tray down on the small table between them, "well, us criminals have to keep an eye on each other."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"I wouldn't say we're criminals, just... entrepreneurs who have a preferred method of income." Uvei grabbed the tray and sorted through the packages. He dug out a box of cookies. "You certainly seem in a better mood today."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Okafor shrugged, "what can I say? A shower and a date with the family can do wonders."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"And how is your family?"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“My daughter’s doing fine. How’s yours?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Uvei shrugged, "I wouldn’t know. I don't have any that haven't disowned me. I used to have four names, you know. Then, well…"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Okafor frowned, "Is that why you're so far from home?"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"So I made some odd career choices, and I didn't get along with my siblings, what's the big deal?" The Tribune shoved a large cookie in his maw, "Sometimes you enlist in the Space Force and you do something they don't like and they force you to go on the run…"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She looked at him dubiously.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The commando snorted and smirked at him, “Tell me another one.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Uvei sighed, “Ah, nothing can get past you, eh?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>His smile faded, and he took a deep breath, and looked away dramatically, “The truth is...I was accused of a crime I didn’t commit. I can’t stay in any one place too long, or else--”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Okafor rolled her eyes and took a seat. “And your dog ate your homework. Come on, what kind of movie cliches are these?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Uvei shot a glare back at her, “</span>
  <em>
    <span>that</span>
  </em>
  <span> is the truth!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“That’s the summary of that shitty action movie that was in the theater on the station.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Uvei froze and looked back at her. He shrugged with another winning grin, “Worth a try?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Okafor, to his surprise, returned the grin. Her blunt teeth showed in the smile. They looked well-kept. He was always a little unnerved by Broken teeth. They could be mistaken for being an herbivore’s teeth with their blunt edges, the tiny canines tucked into the corners of their mouths belied this impression. Not to mention, their grins could mean they were happy</span>
  <em>
    <span> or</span>
  </em>
  <span> angry. Their expressions never quite matched a Tribune’s, and it was unsettling, the way they were a little difficult to read.  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The smuggler picked up the tray of food. The rehydrated meal wasn’t too appetizing, but it wasn’t different from anything he’d usually eat on his ship. He noted that any labels on the MREs beyond what they were had been blacked out with a marker. “Well, if you’ve got my secret, I know yours.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Okafor stuck her feet up on the desk, “Really?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Where are you really from?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Okafor furrowed her brow, “What do you mean?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You’re not from where you said you’re from.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Okafor shrugged, “Believe what you want.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Very well. I shall have to make up a backstory for you, then.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She raised an eyebrow at him, and Uvei laughed. He stabbed a fork into his rehydrated meal and sawed at the meat with a knife.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Okafor considered something for a moment, “Does the name ‘Arrakis’ mean anything to you?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Uvei held up a hand, “Ah, ah, don’t give me any hints, I want to be surprised!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“...By the story, that you’re making up for me?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The Tribune nodded with a grin, “Of course!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>His grin grew wider when Okafor’s mouth twitched again, and he ate in silence for a few moments. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Okafor scratched her ear, “Have you seen many Naiads before?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Uvei frowned. The damn monsters </span>
  <em>
    <span>terrified</span>
  </em>
  <span> him. “I see them more than most, which isn’t saying much. I’m surprised you were able to get this close. Usually, I just stay away from them. Hell, I would’ve been more frightened if your pet in fatigues wasn’t about to strangle me.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Okafor let out a loud “hah!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Uvei blinked, then laughed too.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Okafor grinned, “I’ve </span>
  <em>
    <span>never</span>
  </em>
  <span> heard anyone describe the colonel like that.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“By the gods, she’s </span>
  <em>
    <span>terrifying</span>
  </em>
  <span>,” Uvei said with another laugh, “I’ve never seen </span>
  <em>
    <span>anyone</span>
  </em>
  <span> that short be </span>
  <em>
    <span>that</span>
  </em>
  <span> confident in taking on a Tribune with her bare hands.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Do you think she’d succeed?” Okafor asked.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He glanced around the room, then smirked, “I probably shouldn’t answer that question within a kilometer of her.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Okafor smiled, “Believe me, she’d </span>
  <em>
    <span>love</span>
  </em>
  <span> to try it. You wouldn’t believe the rumors about her.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Uvei thought for a moment, “Pardon me, Lieutenant, but I’m curious. Why are there so many humans aboard?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What do you mean?” Okafor asked.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He gestured at her, “Humans. Broken. I expected your group had a number of them, but not this many! I haven’t seen a single other species since I was brought aboard.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Okafor snorted, “It’s not like you’ve seen many people at all.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Uvei nodded, but still looked quizzical, “I saw the crew in the hangar. All I saw were humans.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Okafor shrugged again, “Most of the people I saw on the station were Tribunes.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Uvei shook his head, “You have to admit it’s weird. I mean, surely your entire group isn’t human. A ship this size can’t run on just Broken, let alone the other ships you have, and the other agents you have.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Okafor’s head snapped forward, her eyes fixed directly on the Tribune, “And why is that?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Uvei looked at the lieutenant strangely, “Well...you’re humans. You’re pretty rare in the galaxy.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“How do you know our entire group isn’t human?” Okafor asked.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Uvei grinned. “I find it strange that you have not one, but two humans in positions of authority. That’s very unusual. And it’s </span>
  <em>
    <span>extremely</span>
  </em>
  <span> unusual if you’re not connected to the Red Hand. What’s your game?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Why is it so unusual?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Uvei’s grin faltered a little, “Well...I know humans aren’t quite what the almighty Compact says you are, but there’s so few of you, and most wouldn’t accept you being in charge. I’m curious as to how a few dozen, or a few hundred, humans managed to get off Rally in such large numbers and get in so high with a brand-new pirate group, enough for a ship this big. And I’m curious why I haven’t seen any other faces. Where are the other species aboard your ship?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Okafor leaned back and just smiled.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The smuggler put up his hands, “Oh, very well. Don’t tell me.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span> This human was quite strange. She was rather direct, and yet at the same time, friendly. It was a conundrum.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Okafor put her hands behind her head. She rubbed at her ear for a moment, “It might be weird for us, but your Shade Flotilla buddies are weirder. I mean, who’d want to go rogue just to play with some primitives? And an Expansion Force at that…” She shrugged. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Uvei’s eyes flickered through a variety of emotions. “What makes so many humans go rogue?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What makes a smuggler go rogue?” Okafor countered.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Uvei shrugged, “What makes a janissary go rogue?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Okafor rolled her eyes, and scratched her ear, “You know, I had the chance to learn more about your Shade pals. It’s amazing they went rogue like that, especially with the embargo. I’m really surprised they‘d do that. I mean they wouldn’t get any money, is being worshipped worth it?” She blinked, “Ah, sorry. Were you going to say something?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Uvei frowned, “They don’t want to be worshipped.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Really? I would’ve thought this would’ve been your scene. You could get a lot of shiny things out of them.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Uvei shook his head, “Do you </span>
  <em>
    <span>really</span>
  </em>
  <span> think they’d be that trivial?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span> “So it was religious then. They thought they could educate these people better than the almighty Compact. Or they thought these people didn’t deserve this sort of thing…”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Uvei shook his head, “No, they don’t want to be worshipped, trust me. This was a political move. They’re failed revolutionaries.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Okafor cocked her head, “Oh? Is that how you’d describe it?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Uvei shrugged, “That’s how they’d describe it too. They don’t want to secede. They still believe in the ideals of the Compact, but they believe the current Triarch leaders are in the wrong. They want to remove what they see as an immoral administration and instill a morally superior one.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Okafor sat up straight. She moved a lock of her hair back, “Any particular reason they’d doubt the Triarchs? I’m agnostic, but I know plenty of Tribunes see them as gods.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Uvei snorted, then looked off to the side, “Gods don’t work with demons.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Okafor focused her eyes on the space between his upper and lower pair. This was the lowest she’d seen him. And it seemed at least partially genuine.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He shrugged again, and looked up, “Of course it took something serious. They found evidence that the Compact </span>
  <em>
    <span>lied</span>
  </em>
  <span>.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Her expression didn’t change, but Uvei must’ve noticed something. She rubbed her ear again. He nodded, “Oh, it’s true, and just as shocking for them as it is for you. They found evidence that the Compact has been experimenting with AI for over two thousand years.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Excuse me? Are you serious?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Uvei nodded, “I’m serious. It’s shocking, but it’s true. The Compact has been experimenting with AI for two thousand years.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Okafor grimaced, “that doesn’t seem possible.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“But it is. They’ve been experimenting and failing for two millennia. And each time they bring it online, thousands die, and they start over.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“And they keep doing this? For...two thousand years?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Uvei nodded, “The Shade leader, Column Leader Prime Nanhar, and five names, discovered this. He couldn’t even scratch the surface of how many died.” He scratched his chin idly, “From what I hear, the man knew he’d disappear if he let it slip. He didn’t have an easy way of blowing the whistle, and this goes pretty deep.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Okafor nodded slowly, her brows knit.  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“So, the Shades set up an elaborate gambit to gather together military resources to stage a popular uprising. They couldn’t win on their own. They would launch an attack with what forces they had, blow the whistle on the secret, and call for popular support from both citizens and the military to help them bring down the corrupt Triarchs and put new ones in place.” Uvei spread his hands, “Nanhar and his allies got themselves moved out to the Expansion forces, and strung together troops with low morale from the Principality front and were transferred to the Expansion Fleets to get them out of the way and give them a rest. Nanhar claimed he’d whip these units into fighting shape. He and his allies made sure they were loyal, or at least that their commanders were loyal, and had enough pull to make the troops follow them anywhere.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Sounds pretty risky. And unlikely.” Okafor pointed out, “All this on a rumor about betrayal?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“They had evidence. The Triarchs </span>
  <em>
    <span>lied</span>
  </em>
  <span>.” Uvei insisted.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Okafor still looked skeptical, but it </span>
  <em>
    <span>was</span>
  </em>
  <span> possible. This was like a 10th century Crusader finding out the devil himself had killed Jesus, and that the pope had captured him and pointedly did </span>
  <em>
    <span>not</span>
  </em>
  <span> try to destroy him, but instead tried to harness his power at the cost of hundreds of thousands of people for thousands of years. With such blind faith badly shaken, they’d be doing several unusual things.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>And this was more well-thought-out than some revolutions on Earth. Okafor had studied ancient revolutions as part of training. How many coups had been attempted with a handful of people and minimal planning and resources? She rubbed her ear.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Uvei scratched his chin, “They planned to stage an uprising. They allied with some Unbound forces so their ships wouldn’t fall apart once they seceded, and prepared a network of infiltrators who could distribute the story in the right places to the right people. The plan was to defend several new primitive nations and use them as political leverage to support their cause once they blew the whistle. They figured they could defend these potential clients to show the current administration’s flaws or something, while they called for popular support.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Do you know if these less advanced nations agreed to this?” Okafor asked.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I am not sure. I believe they were willing to accept any help. They were only a mere handful of worlds. Some had several systems, but in this area, they didn’t have the firepower to hold off an Expansion Fleet. At least, not without the help of the flotilla. The Shades were only a small part of the force, but they believed with the limited support of the locals, they could use defeat in detail.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Uvei cast his eyes down, “Unfortunately...The Column Leader Prime may have kept his weapons and supply preparations concealed, but their spy network was compromised. The story was killed, they couldn’t blow the whistle, and the uprising never happened.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Okafor remembered the stories about John Brown’s Raid on Harpers Ferry and the July Revolution. Not enough pamphlets. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“They were able to hold off the Expansion Fleet elements that tried to dislodge them, but not much else. They branded the flotilla traitors and put up a blockade. Most of the messages the flotilla does send out are branded as lies and slander as usual, and any who even remotely consider listening disappear. The flotilla still exists only because of the expense, certain strategic demands, and the fact that the Compact Endures. They’re planning on sending someone out there </span>
  <em>
    <span>eventually</span>
  </em>
  <span>.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Why haven’t they done it yet?” Okafor asked suddenly, “Why are they taking so long? They could make an example of them. The almighty Compact could annihilate a handful of ships like that!” The lieutenant snapped her fingers, and growled, “You’ve got enough ships to expand and fight the Principality with one hand behind your back. Why can’t you just wipe them out? That’s what you guys do. Even with major roadblocks you always knock ‘em over.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Uvei raised an eyebrow at her gesture, “Well, I’m not part of the Space Force for one, and for another, as you said, there’s only a handful of Shade ships. Despite how much of an embarrassment it is, the Space Force has cut off their access to other systems beyond the blockade, and the Shades are trapped, except for a few ships that can sneak through. Strategic demands have meant that they need to devote ships to other areas of the expansion period. They simply don’t have the ships to defeat them immediately. But that’s bound to change.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Okafor looked at him for a long moment. She scratched her ear. Then she seemed to accept it. “So if they’re </span>
  <em>
    <span>failed </span>
  </em>
  <span>revolutionaries, why are they still following this Nanhar guy?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“They can’t go home,” Uvei pointed out, “And surrender isn’t a very decent option, at least for now. The remainder of the flotilla still follows the column leader only through the sheer force of charisma and guns. They’re willing to accept help from anyone, this is why they’re taking you in. They’re </span>
  <em>
    <span>desperate</span>
  </em>
  <span> for monetary aid and allies of any kind. It doesn’t matter who you are to them, even if you’re just a tiny mercenary group, they’re willing to take your civilians in and what few assets you can spare.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Is this why they’d be willing to negotiate with the Principality?” Okafor asked, and leaned forward, “Because that doesn’t make sense. They want to keep the Compact intact, but they are also willing to share information with their sworn enemies?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Uvei spread his hands again, and smiled, “Why not? If the Triarchs have lied about AI for this long, why not about the Principality?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Uvei’s smile faded, and he tilted his head, “...Well, that’s the official reasoning anyway. They want to ‘restore’ the Compact, but I doubt they see the Principality in the long-term future. It’s just in their best interest to seek help, as you suggested. It’s also in the </span>
  <em>
    <span>Principality’s </span>
  </em>
  <span>best interest to speak with anyone who could help undermine their opponents. The enemy of my enemy is my friend, after all. But I don’t believe for a second they’re not both planning to double-cross each other at some point.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Have they had much contact with the Principality?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Uvei grimaced, “Last time I was through the blockade, the expedition had yet to reach their space. But this was some time ago. So for all I know, there could be an Askanj ghost fleet in their home base right now, or the expedition was sent back in tiny boxes.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Eh, either way, it’s better than hanging out with the </span>
  <em>
    <span>Commies</span>
  </em>
  <span>,” Okafor muttered with a small smile.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Uvei tapped his headset again, the last word didn’t translate properly. He studied her for a moment, then a playful smile appeared. “On a less depressing note, Lieutenant...what was the first time </span>
  <em>
    <span>you</span>
  </em>
  <span> met a Tribune in person?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Okafor’s hand froze on her ear. “What was the first time you met a human being?” she retorted.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Uvei thought for a moment. “I think in a bar. To tell you the truth I don’t exactly remember that night. I wasn’t too impressed, </span>
  <em>
    <span>but</span>
  </em>
  <span>…” He smiled, “I do know there are some redeeming qualities about your species.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Okafor raised an eyebrow. "What do you mean?"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Oh, I'm sure you can guess." he winked with two of his eyes.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The corner of Okafor’s mouth twitched, "uh-huh. Say I can’t--I mean, Tribunes aren’t too free with their compliments, after all."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You have those little hands!” Uvei said, gesturing to Okafor’s.  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Okafor blinked. “My…?” she raised her hand. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Right! And that, uh...What’s the bit on the end? It’s not a claw...”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What, the fingernail?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Right,” Uvei nodded. “Those are great. I saw a Bro--a human mechanic once, she was great. Little hands! Watching her take apart equipment…” he shook his head. “And undoing tangles! It’s amazing!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“...right,” Okafor said, not sure what to say to that.  </span>
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>
  <span>They talked for some time. Not like an interrogator and prisoner, but like...well...friends. Or at the very least bored coworkers. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Eventually, Okafor had to bid her...colleague adieu and left. She pounded on the door and nodded to the guard when she opened it. Okafor walked down the corridor. The spare quarters section was reserved for guests, sickbay overflow, damage to crew quarters, storage, and other such uses. Most were full at the moment, but they’d cleared a handful for emergencies, visitors from the rest of the fleet, and guests like the smuggler.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The lieutenant turned a corner, then rubbed at her ear. It took a moment to dig out the earpiece, and she scratched her ear with relief. Okafor walked to one of the cabins with another guard standing outside. She entered the cabin.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Inside were staff operating an elaborate surveillance setup. Camera feeds and sensors watched Uvei’s room from a variety of angles. The Tribune studied a PDA he’d been given for reading.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Captain Kumar, one of the most senior UECSOC officers in the fleet, stood behind the observation staff with her arms crossed. She looked at Okafor when she entered.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Anything to report, Lieutenant?” the captain asked.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“No, ma’am. The man’s complex, but not </span>
  <em>
    <span>that</span>
  </em>
  <span> complex. The Scharff Technique still works as far as I can tell.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Kumar snorted, “How do you mean ‘complex’?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I mean he’s not an open book, is all,” Okafor replied, “He’s smarter than he seems but not as smart as he tries to pass himself off as.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Kumar nodded. “Sounds a lot like us now that I think about it.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Okafor grimaced, “Yes, ma’am.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Kumar checked a paper notebook she held in one hand. Notes and questions were written on the open page. “He told us why the Shades went rogue, but he didn’t tell us what the proof was.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Okafor shook her head, “But does that matter at this point? We know the Shades don’t like the Commies. That’s good enough. We’ll just nod and smile until we can get to the Royals.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Her superior looked at the Tribune on the cameras. The fate of the entire UEC rested on that dog’s shoulders.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span> The captain looked at Okafor, “Can we trust him?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Okafor glanced at the screens, “He’s a smuggler, ma’am. But a neutral one. I think if we keep him from getting close to anyone else who can pay him, we can trust him to get us through the blockade.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Kumar grimaced, “Lieutenant, are you positive? You came back with three body bags.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“That wasn’t his fault, ma’am.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Are you sure? How do we know he didn’t tip them off? How do we know this wasn’t some kind of sting operation? Maybe his handlers wanted us to find him. The Compact has a lot of resources. I wouldn’t put it past them to make an op this elaborate.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The suggestions made Okafor aware that Captain Kumar had been in Navy Special Warfare Operations for twenty years. She’d been fighting insurgents, independent human states, and pirates since she was in grade school.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I doubt it, ma’am. He’s not that competent,” Okafor replied, “As I said in my report, we don’t have anything solid on how we got compromised. We had no identification from them. They could’ve been rival gangs, or something else.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Kumar put her hands behind her back, “Well, whatever the case, they’re coming in.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She rubbed her eyes. Kumar hadn’t gotten much sleep. Nobody had. “Can we trust him?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Okafor blinked for a moment. She was tired too. It took a moment to process. “Yes ma’am. We can trust him.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Alright…thank you, Lieutenant.” Kumar walked to the hatch.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Okafor took one more glance at the feeds. Uvei was still reading. She shook her head and caught up with Kumar.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They went toward the elevator down the corridor. Kumar glanced at her expression, “What’s on your mind, Lieutenant? Something wrong?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Okafor blinked, “Uh...nothing, ma’am.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Kumar frowned, “He’ll be alright. Even the jarheads can’t screw this up.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yes ma’am. Sorry, I just…” she glanced back down the hall, “It’s weird. I kinda feel for the puppy. Truth be told, he’s not that bad of a guy. For a Tribune, at least. At least he didn’t say I’m a credit to my people.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Kumar grimaced. “Damn thing doesn’t know what he’s stumbled into. He’s not getting out anytime soon.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I wonder how long it’ll take him to figure that out.” Okafor looked down the corridor once more, “Poor guy. I think I’m his only friend now.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Kumar tilted her head, and Okafor’s eyes widened. However, the captain didn’t snap at her. “I doubt it counts as fraternization if he’s on the verge of becoming a permanent resident. If he learns anything more about us, we’re either going to have to space him or keep him forever. Everything rests on keeping the enemy from learning anything about us. So long as they think we’re a bunch of mercs, that keeps the Space Force off our asses for another day.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Okafor relaxed, “Captain, I’m just providing a valuable prisoner --a valuable </span>
  <em>
    <span>civilian</span>
  </em>
  <span> prisoner-- with an appropriate amount of courtesy and aiding in interrogation. He came in relatively good faith, and he might be useful in the future. Maybe we could deploy him as one of our agents.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>They reached the elevator. Kumar pushed the call button. “Him being a puppy doesn’t bother you?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“He’s not a Commie, ma’am,” Okafor replied, “That’s good enough. What should it matter how many eyes he has?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Kumar looked at her, “It’s not his eyes, Lieutenant, it’s what he is.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Okafor’s gaze narrowed, “With all due respect, Captain, if he’s not a Commie, and if it’s not because he’s a puppy, then what </span>
  <em>
    <span>is </span>
  </em>
  <span>it about?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The captain fell silent. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’m not losing my nerve, ma’am. I can assure you, I can still perform my duties.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Kumar put up a hand, “I’m not questioning your performance, Lieutenant.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Ma’am, we need to find contacts out here. We need allies. We can’t do that playing favorites, or kidnapping every single puppy, bird, or squid out there.” Okafor rubbed the back of her neck.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’m just curious, Lieutenant,” Kumar said carefully, “The fleet’s in a bit of a mess. Everyone’s stressed and high-strung. We all have to keep an eye on each other. Especially people in our line of work.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Okafor nodded, “Yes ma’am. I understand that.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The elevator door hissed open. They stepped inside. Okafor grimaced, “My apologies, Captain, I’m just a bit sensitive today.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Kumar looked at her sympathetically, “Lieutenant Okafor, I don’t think any of us will stop being sensitive for a long time.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <strong>
    <span>XXXXX</span>
  </strong>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Sharif studied the reports carefully. These Broken were well-trained and well-coordinated. His analysts had a lot more data to work with this time.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>His flagship stood off the docking ring of a small merchant station that had recently been attacked. What was left of the docking ring was in tatters, with numerous small craft combing the wreckage or conducting repairs.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>This was the biggest lead they’d gotten. The Avians had gotten into small firefights before, but this was the first on such a large scale.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>And with one ship. One Compact-registered salvage ship.</span>
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The station manager had been screaming bloody murder when a Space Force flotilla finally shocked in. She’d demanded action of some kind, or at the very least compensation, and turned over several prisoners and different articles of evidence when prompted. Though she dismissed the event as some sort of turf war, she insisted that somebody had to compensate them for the damages.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The personnel recovered were Space Force contractors, the kind of movie cliche hired guns, or “Private Military Companies” some departments, corporations, and commands occasionally hired. They were seen as a cheap and easy way to get things done when the regular troops and law enforcement couldn’t or wouldn’t. The idea was that “contractors” either knew the criminal underworld and knew who to talk to, or could carry out certain kinds of missions and get right to the source of a problem. Some liked PMCs because they didn’t ask questions and the financiers could wash their hands of all responsibility if the operations went badly.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Sharif had them thrown in the brig. He </span>
  <em>
    <span>despised </span>
  </em>
  <span>contractors. Whether they be straight-up criminals or PMCs, they had no respect for the law, no loyalty, and were as bad as the people they helped hunt. To make matters worse, they weren’t even reliable. Sharif couldn’t remember how many had failed in their jobs by mistake, or simply got a better bid to run off and hide.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They weren’t exactly legal of course, but they were less paperwork to deal with than proper Compact military personnel, they had nobody to miss them, and since when did logic stop such practices?</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Sharif scowled at the documents. So many bystanders had been hit not by the Blue Avians, but by the stray fire of these fools.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>You didn’t work with criminals like this. And that was what PMCs were little better than; criminals. It was one thing to use criminal sources in law for intelligence, for an understanding of the criminal underworld, to use small fish to hunt the bigger ones. But it was quite another to perform law </span>
  <em>
    <span>enforcement</span>
  </em>
  <span> with them. That was the Compact’s responsibility.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Subterfuge, proxy wars...that wasn’t right. It was yet another way to make the clients distrust and hate them. It was about as effective as “making examples” of criminals.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It resulted in cases like these. The biggest lead they had was hundreds of casualties and no direction to follow.</span>
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Sharif looked off into the distance and smiled as he remembered the satisfying look on the lead contractor’s face. That arrogant fool had expected payment at </span>
  <em>
    <span>least</span>
  </em>
  <span>, perhaps even luxurious quarters. When Sharif gave the order his face had drained of color and all pretense of arrogance.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Sharif didn’t enjoy the pain of others, but he did find victory satisfying.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His smile faded. He wondered who’d hired these </span>
  <em>
    <span>idiots</span>
  </em>
  <span>. This was another reason he hated contractors. They just got in the way. If they hadn’t spooked the Broken, they wouldn’t have tried to blow up the station’s fuel depot.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He put one of the PDAs down and rubbed his nose. He’d been up late. The number of resources he’d had to push to this incident…</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The Tribune sighed. It had taken most of the night just to deal with the paperwork and negotiations of arriving in this system. He didn’t have time for this. He had to find the Broken before some other fool did. He shuddered to think of what might happen to the poor things if anyone like his academy peers found them.</span>
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Sharif touched a control, and Column Leader Depta’s console chirped a few decks down. The column leader looked disheveled on the video screen but likewise had been up late doing paperwork herself.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Column Leader Prime…</span>
  </em>
  <span>” Depta cleared her throat, “</span>
  <em>
    <span>good evening.</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Good evening, Depta. How are you?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Rescue efforts have gone well. It’s unusual to </span>
  </em>
  <span>not</span>
  <em>
    <span> be the one they demand to speak to immediately.</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I suppose there’s a bonus to my being here, then.” Sharif chuckled. Civilians in these situations liked to demand the highest authority available whenever the military got involved.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Three squadrons of warships tend to draw attention…</span>
  </em>
  <span>” Depta conceded, “</span>
  <em>
    <span>What did you need, sir?</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“The analysts have found more data on the humans. And they found more graffiti.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Sharif touched another control, and a photo appeared of another bulkhead with red spray paint. “</span>
  <em>
    <span>One giant leap</span>
  </em>
  <span>” it read.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>So it’s the Blue Avians for certain, then,</span>
  </em>
  <span>” Depta said.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“It was as I suspected.” </span>
  <em>
    <span>So there was a reason for me to come out here, after all,</span>
  </em>
  <span> Sharif added in his mind.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He put his hands together, “We have more data to work with this time. The analysts have concluded that they have either Space Force training or training from some other armed forces. Perhaps some rogue pirate groups or someone else.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Depta nodded, “</span>
  <em>
    <span>Pirates frequently have unusual tactics, and training from a variety of sources if they have any at all. I may not know much about Broken, but I doubt a large number of them could’ve gone AWOL without any sort of notification.</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Sharif nodded, “The analysts believe that indicates most of them were civilians when they left Rally. They may not have been experienced when they left Rally, but could easily have earned that training elsewhere.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He paused. “I wonder how many years this operation has been going.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Operation?</span>
  </em>
  <span>” Depta looked surprised, “</span>
  <em>
    <span>Column Leader Prime, what are you implying?</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Sharif grimaced, “It’s something I’ve been speculating on. I find it strange how they managed to get so many humans off Rally.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Depta nodded, “</span>
  <em>
    <span>the thought had crossed my mind.</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Sharif nodded, “The analysts have concluded that whatever old ships the humans have salvaged would require too many staff for them to be operated purely by Broken. They’re betting there’s either heavy automation, members of other species aiding them, or most likely a combination of both. They think that while there may be a large number of humans, the Blue Avians do not consist of 100% Broken.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Does that change your strategy?</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“No. less than 100% Broken does not mean they’re the minority, nor does it mean we should write them off.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Sir, they may just be using a handful of Broken for a psychological effect--</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“That doesn’t sit right. Most wouldn’t recognize them or their ships, not unless they were from the inner worlds. There’s got to be a connection!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Aliens can be illogical</span>
  </em>
  <span>--”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“But they’re not </span>
  <em>
    <span>stupid</span>
  </em>
  <span>, column leader!" Sharif snapped, "There’s always a method to this sort of madness!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Depta maintained her composure, but she was a little surprised at the outburst.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The officer sent her some files, video feed, and witness accounts. “Their fighters; while their training and experience were great, their equipment was lackluster. They utilized civilian market firearms, and hardsuits barely worthy of the name. Even their flashbangs were crude, albeit effective. Isn’t this strange?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The column leader prime hit another button, and a report appeared, with a still from a security feed, “A Xeno paleontologist noted the style of visors the human hardsuits used; they had a distinct clamshell arrangement. Not distinct to human spacesuits, of course, but distinct enough for a historian.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>What do you mean human spacesuits, sir?</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I mean these are straight out of the archives on the </span>
  <em>
    <span>U-ni-ted Earth Con-fed-racy</span>
  </em>
  <span>!” He spoke loudly, “If this was just a psychological effect...well...doesn’t it seem strange their infiltration agents are using this gear, not just the boarding parties?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>It’s possible they’re using whatever they can lay their hands on. Or perhaps a sense of sentimentality? Can they even afford more equipment? Maybe they’re using lackluster equipment because their leaders are lining their nests. They </span>
  </em>
  <span>are</span>
  <em>
    <span> pirates after all.</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Perhaps, perhaps not,” Sharif said, and forcibly calmed himself down, “The Blue Avians should have gathered a small fortune so far, </span>
  <em>
    <span>and</span>
  </em>
  <span> equipment. From what we can gather, there have been unusual purchases of black market equipment, including weapons, power armor, ship supplies, and, oddly enough, significant civilian gear. They’d bought terraforming and colonization supplies, though not as much as what you’d expect for an attempt to create a new world. They’ve bought barely a fraction of that. And if they’ve bought such equipment, why not something as simple as a cheap hardsuit? My point is, they seem to be operating more like..a guerilla force rather than traditional pirates.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Guerillas and pirates tend to cross over, if I’m not mistaken,</span>
  </em>
  <span>” Depta shrugged, “</span>
  <em>
    <span>On the other hand, it would cost a lot to maintain those old ships, and whatever else they have planned likely soaked up their funds beyond their reconnaissance and infiltration units.</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The column leader prime suddenly fell silent and looked to the side. Out of sight, his hands balled into fists.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>You’ve got another idea,</span>
  </em>
  <span>” Depta commented.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>When her superior looked up, she shrugged, “</span>
  <em>
    <span>I’ve just got this feeling. It seems like you don’t like the more simple explanations.</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Sharif’s gaze was difficult to read.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He slowly nodded. He unclenched his hands. The column leader prime opened a menu and selected the option.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Make sure this is a secure transmission.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Depta hesitated, then nodded, and mirrored his movements on her display.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Is there something wrong?</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I think one of your initial theories was right in a way,” Sharif said in a low voice. He knew his quarters were secure, but it was like an instinct. And you couldn’t be too careful.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Which theory</span>
  </em>
  <span>?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“There </span>
  <em>
    <span>is</span>
  </em>
  <span> a corporation involved. A corporation, or some kind of sponsor.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Depta didn’t say anything for a moment.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“And not just a sponsor…” he muttered, “a </span>
  <em>
    <span>monstrous </span>
  </em>
  <span>one. They may not be the direct perpetrators, but they’re the funders!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Sharif shook his head, “Heads are going to roll. Taking advantage of one or more client races, reopening old wounds, and siccing the Space Force on a species that’s scarce enough in the galaxy as it is? I’m no lawyer, but that doesn’t sound legal to me.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He cursed, “There’s so few of them, and somebody wants us, their </span>
  <em>
    <span>saviors</span>
  </em>
  <span>, to kill them! Isn’t that ironic? Somebody has a sick sense of humor.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Sir, I’m sorry, but I am extremely confused,</span>
  </em>
  <span>” Depta said, “</span>
  <em>
    <span>Why the secrecy? What are you talking about?</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’m saying that the patterns don’t make sense because they’re not </span>
  <em>
    <span>supposed</span>
  </em>
  <span> to make sense, at least not from a traditional point of view. Something strange is going on here.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He looked her in the eye with a dark expression, “Can I trust you, Depta?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The column leader was taken aback. She looked around her quarters, then back at him, “</span>
  <em>
    <span>Sir?</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“This conversation can’t leave this transmission. This is extremely vital.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Well, I know you don’t know me very well, sir, but...I am a Space Force officer.</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Sharif’s gaze didn’t change, “So you’re loyal to the Space Force? You won’t change your mind for a price?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>No price could buy my loyalty, sir.</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Sharif nodded, “It’s good to hear you say that. You’re a good officer, Depta. Don’t worry, there’s nothing illegal going on here. Not from me anyway.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He scratched his head, “These Blue Avians couldn’t have salvaged the human ships on their own, not without help. I believe that someone found the ancient ships, refit them, gathered up a large number of Broken, showed them the old records, then sent them off to go and wreak havoc. It’s a false flag operation of some kind, where the Broken are nothing but bait for us to attack, to draw us away from something for some reason.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Sharif scowled, and looked to the side, “I don’t know what they want, I don’t know what the end goal is, I just know that there is no way they could’ve refit those ships, or gotten that many humans without help, not to mention so many with such training.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Depta looked confused, “</span>
  <em>
    <span>Column Leader Prime, with all due respect, you </span>
  </em>
  <span>are</span>
  <em>
    <span> aware of how mad this sounds, aren’t you? Do you have any evidence of this?</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I thought you didn't believe the humans were competent enough for such elaborate schemes,” Sharif said coldly, “do you have any other explanation? Those ships require a tremendous amount of staff, not to mention infrastructure. Repairing an ancient battleship after 2,000 years, especially without the yards or minds that built them, would be a tremendous task. Getting this many humans, one of the rarest sapient species in the galaxy, off Rally without anyone noticing, is a tremendous feat. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Training</span>
  </em>
  <span> this many humans, and equipping them would be a feat in of itself, simply for how few there are. Doesn’t it seem like we have too many coincidences and not enough direct correlation?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Depta thought for a moment. “</span>
  <em>
    <span>While I don’t completely agree, sir, I will agree that there is something strange going on. The contractors still won’t tell us who sponsored them, after all. That is the case with many contractors, but it is certainly an interesting ‘coincidence’.</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She leaned back, and frowned, “</span>
  <em>
    <span>The Kaedan Vault is still sensitive to some in the core worlds, especially those who had family on the </span>
  </em>
  <span>Bringer of Light</span>
  <em>
    <span>. I could see any number of patrons, either corporate or a rich family or individual, who might still hold the grudge.</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It never even occurred to them that someone as high as a Triarch could have been responsible.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Depta grimaced, “</span>
  <em>
    <span>I have no other explanation. I’m not even sure what exactly they would want. Though...many of the systems in this area are quite rich. It seems strange to perform such a massive undertaking for only a few planets…</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Planets that used to be habitable. Perhaps there are other game pieces they have yet to set in motion.” Sharif suggested.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Depta nodded, “</span>
  <em>
    <span>As for picking the humans, perhaps our mysterious foe is still angry about the war. Maybe they simply don’t care. Clients are considered more disposable by some. And </span>
  </em>
  <span>especially </span>
  <em>
    <span>if they remember the war.</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Sharif rubbed his face. Nobody was disposable to the Compact. That was why the Compact endures. They went out of their way to help people.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>...Just so bureaucratic bean counters could use them as pawns in some giant as of yet unknown game?</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Sharif scowled. The Broken were good soldiers and good workers. It was tragic their talents had been turned against the good of the law. And it was appalling that they were being used as cannon fodder. So many deaths, in some giant game...it was unforgivable. They had to save the Broken, then show the criminals who’d trained them, those </span>
  <em>
    <span>monsters</span>
  </em>
  <span>, the meaning of the Compact.</span>
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The photo of graffiti on the bulkhead caught his eye again. "</span>
  <em>
    <span>One giant leap</span>
  </em>
  <span>". </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Sharif scowled.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Depta must’ve been looking at the same document he was. “</span>
  <em>
    <span>You said that phrase was significant in human culture, Column Leader Prime. What does it mean?</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Sharif grimaced, “It appears to have various meanings. It appears to be a...declaration, or perhaps an oath of some kind, from ancient human culture. The records on the subject have not been well-kept.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>You seem frustrated by it.</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Sharif’s gaze darkened further, “It’s another symbol of their sickness. Some of the Xeno paleontologists have been arguing about it, some saying it was once a peaceful phrase. That’s how it’s taught on Rally, now. A phrase associated with their first landing on another interstellar body. ‘That’s one small step for man, one giant leap for mankind’.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Depta raised an eyebrow at that. A bit redundant, wasn’t it?</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Sharif opened his mouth to say more, then closed it. He pulled up another menu on his screen, “That phrase was from before the humans became sick. The analysts speculate it was before racial insanity had yet to take root.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He pulled up a recording, and sent it to her screen, “</span>
  <em>
    <span>This </span>
  </em>
  <span>is why it makes me angry.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>
  <span>A holographic display snapped on. It depicted sensor data from an ancient conflict. An old Compact heavy cruiser was highlighted in the center. It was in high orbit around a colonized world, on the edge of a battlefield. There was wreckage scattered from the planet’s two moons to high orbit. The debris of a handful of Compact shapes drifted among the fragments of a far larger number of primitive debris.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The battle still raged, missiles, kinetic and energy weapons flung back and forth between combatants. There was a small Compact flotilla that challenged a squadron of alien vessels centered around a large command ship.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The heavy cruiser’s engines were alight. It was trying to reenter the battle. Damage indicators pointed at various points on its hull.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>...targeting systems are offline. Our missiles can’t engage. Stand by forward batteries!</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The heavy cruiser’s guns swiveled to target the enemy’s flagship. The command ship’s engines pushed it forward, the largest combatants in the battle clawing against gravity to come to blows. Though the battleship was three times the size of the cruiser, normally the cruiser would’ve been a match, on paper at least.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Huge gouts of fire struck the battleship’s shields. It knocked them down with even more ease than could be expected. The flagship was badly damaged, with great holes and craters on its sides. Its hull was scored, scorched, and covered with burns and lines cut by energy weapons. It vented gases and trailed debris mixed with floating bodies. They quickly fell behind as the alien ship accelerated.</span>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <span>The battleship rolled as it attacked, and the Compact cruiser’s fire fell against </span>
  <em>
    <span>another </span>
  </em>
  <span>intact shield, much to Depta’s surprise. This one held slightly longer as it flew inexorably toward the Compact heavy cruiser. It’s own weapons blazed away at its target.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The cruiser’s commander spoke again, “</span>
  <em>
    <span>Destroy that ship! All batteries, commence firing!</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The cruiser tried to escape, but still, the enemy would not falter or retire. The other Compact vessels couldn’t disengage to assist. The enemy ship accelerated to ramming speed. Despite how primitive their weapons might have been, the battleship was more than three times the cruiser’s size and had more emplacements to bring to bear. They threw everything they had at the cruiser.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The battleship’s sides erupted in missiles. At the same time, its sides vomited escape pods and its hangars spat a handful of shuttles. Many of its railguns and energy weapons were destroyed, huge chunks of debris blown away or vaporized by Compact fire. And still, the battleship continued on its lethal course.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The cruiser’s shields finally collapsed. Suddenly, the audio traffic cut to an alien voice translated generations ago.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"</span>
  <em>
    <span>That's one small battleship,</span>
  </em>
  <span>" a voice spat, tinged with pain. She cackled madly, a low menacing sound, before she coughed, "</span>
  <em>
    <span>one giant leap for mankind-- KSCHHHHH…"</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The audio howled a terrific and harsh tone that had Depta cover her ears. It was the sound of microphones </span>
  <em>
    <span>melting</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The massive human flagship crashed into the heavy cruiser; huge chunks flew forward and the entire cruiser wrapped around the battleship’s hull, as the battleship crumpled like a cigar squashed lengthwise. Just before the human ship’s overloaded energy cores exploded.</span>
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The feed came to an end, and the Column Leader was silent.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Sharif scowled, “That was the human commander. She used her ship, the </span>
  <em>
    <span>Van-gurd</span>
  </em>
  <span>,“ another alien word he learned, “to turn that peaceful phrase into something else.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Depta nodded slowly, “</span>
  <em>
    <span>Getting back to our point, sir, you’re right. We can’t let the word out about this. Not until we have more evidence. We don’t know where The Patron is, or what assets they have.</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Sharif nodded, “We’ll keep up our investigations. Until we can talk to these humans without spooking them, we likely won’t be able to have anything solid on these patrons.”</span>
</p><p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0009"><h2>9. Mercury</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>"We hope that he will guard us as we're starting on our trip as the god of thieves and liars, like the ones who built this ship." - Rocket Rider's Prayer</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p> </p><p>
  <span>“How lucky are you feeling?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>That was the question you always asked with shift drives over long distances. Even if you had reliable navigation data, the further you went, the faster you went, and the more energy you used. The larger the jump, the more strain you put on your systems.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The UEC fleet wasn’t feeling particularly lucky. But they had to do it anyway. They’d shifted as far into Compact space as they could toward the Shade Flotilla’s holdings. But there was only so far they could go before they risked enemy contact. They had a path through the blockade, or so Uvei said.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Even for your tuber engines,” he’d joked, “It should pose minimal risk.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>There would have been a minimal risk to a fleet that could withstand casualties. All it would take would be to risk “only” a “handful” of the million people they had. They only had to risk some of the last free human beings.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Moreno knew they had to do it.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>As they reached the edge of Compact space, the fleet collected every infiltration team they could. There were some they couldn’t contact, and a number volunteered to remain in enemy space to collect information and instill rebellion. And to make sure the UEC survived in some way.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Those troops were on Admiral Moreno’s mind as she leaned back in her seat. The bridge crew, in preparation for any possibility, had strapped themselves in. A desolate blue star was their haven for a few hours until the engines recharged. It was the wrong shade for the Confederacy, but a fitting metaphor. The barrenness ached at Moreno. A huge nation reduced to a tiny spark of humanity among this ragged band of ships.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>And as always, their shadow had followed them. The Naiad sat at the edge of the system, again oriented in the direction of the largest nearby Compact outpost. Just watching. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>This was the last leg of the journey through the blockade. They’d had to do some pretty fancy flying to avoid getting shot at. They’d even had to time warps into two enemy systems. It had been a precise maneuver. They had to make the fleet appear at a rate that the enemy would mistake for a sensor glitch. Surely having several dozen contacts appear on your screens </span>
  <em>
    <span>must</span>
  </em>
  <span> be a glitch, right? They'd appear to be space whales or something.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Now, this was the biggest shift they’d have to make. The biggest, the longest, and the one most prone to failure. They’d already lost one ship, the </span>
  <em>
    <span>Carmen.</span>
  </em>
  <span> Along with her cargo and her eighty-plus crew. Whether it was a failure to shift or they’d shifted and never remerged, they had no idea. They could only hope Captain Carmody would go down quickly, or that they could lie low until the infiltrators could rescue them somehow.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>All this risk on the slim hope that the Shades </span>
  <em>
    <span>weren’t</span>
  </em>
  <span> full of shit. Moreno almost laughed when she saw the report on the smuggler’s story. It didn’t seem possible. How could this security breach happen? Top-level security and a bunch of rebels got through it?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Granted, in human history, secret projects could be compromised in very ridiculous ways. She seemed to recall the Tuskegee Experiment was discovered because someone overheard a doctor talk about it at lunch. And the Trinity bomb test was secretly discovered by a camera company. Even in the most “efficient” states, something could slip through. But how could this much slip through to cause this much chaos? The Compact was nothing if not efficient. They </span>
  <em>
    <span>were</span>
  </em>
  <span> patient, granted, but if there was really something this dangerous on the loose, why wouldn’t they try to wipe them out? Things just didn’t add up. There was something more to this. Not to mention their only evidence was one Tribune with nothing to back up his story.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>What worried her more, however, was the potential that he was telling the truth. She didn’t like the wider implications. What could be so demanding strategically that they couldn’t spare one Execution Force to wipe out a handful of ships? And how much firepower would they eventually throw at them to silence rumors about AI? The UEC fleet could be about to stumble into any number of conflicts. And if the AI rumor was true...the thought of what scared the Compact so bad that they would try to build an AI over and over was a nightmare.</span>
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Wrap maneuver in ten...nine...eight…”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Moreno realized her hands were shaking. She gripped the armrests.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Seven...six...five…”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Mrowka happened to look to the side and saw the admiral’s knuckles. For once, she gave a small warm smile.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I guess even admirals get the jitters,” she whispered.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Four...three…”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Moreno nodded and smiled back. She closed her eyes.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Two...one…”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>An image of Slayton Colony flashed through her mind.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Zero!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>
  <strong>
    <span>XXXXX</span>
  </strong>
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The UEC fleet warped back into normal space like a firecracker. Dozens of flashes rippled across the stars. The naval squadron, her consorts, and the civilian fleet appeared scattered across an entire side of a solar system. The system itself was minimal, made up of a gas giant and a few rocks.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The general quarters alarm wailed aboard the </span>
  <em>
    <span>Vanguard</span>
  </em>
  <span>. It was a standard wartime procedure to assume general quarters whenever entering or exiting a warp maneuver. People slowly started moving again and returned to their battle stations. Sensors flickered back online. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Get me a fleet report the instant comms are back up!” Admiral Moreno barked.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Affirmative!” A rating replied.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Engineering isn’t happy, commander, but the shift drive is still intact.” Another reported to Rivera.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“We’re bringing systems back online.” said a third, “Stabilization period normal. T-minus thirty minutes to minimal communication recovery.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Captain, no major damage sustained.” Rivera said, checking his own displays, “There are some hiccups in the engines, but nothing out of the ordinary for a long-distance shift.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Mrowka nodded, “Good. Let me know the instant we get our long-range sensors online. I want to know if we need to put down one of our doggies.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Moreno smiled a little at the joke, and there were some ragged chuckles. But everyone knew that it didn’t matter if </span>
  <em>
    <span>Vanguard</span>
  </em>
  <span> alone survived. They waited for sensors with bated breath.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“We have minimal sensor recovery. Stand by.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The sensor division talked amongst themselves for a moment, “We’re picking up the squadron...all warships have survived the warp. All auxiliary and science fleet assets are responding. We’ve got a signal from Navy One...”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>A few ragged acknowledgments ran through the bridge.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Picking up signals from the civilian fleet, stand by…”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Everyone held their breath.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The comm ratings spoke back and forth, communicating with their other departments throughout the ship.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>One of the higher ratings put a hand to his headset.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>They spoke rapidly to the sensor department.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"We’re getting scans of most fleet vessels, or at least comm chatter,” one reported, “We can’t confirm everyone just yet, there may still be stragglers, but we’re not getting any comms or sensor data on the </span>
  <em>
    <span>Moth</span>
  </em>
  <span>, the </span>
  <em>
    <span>Signy Mallory</span>
  </em>
  <span> or the </span>
  <em>
    <span>Spark.</span>
  </em>
  <span>"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>There were mutters throughout the bridge. Moreno cursed, as did several others. Many didn't even know several of the names. Several quietly thanked that fact. They hadn't lost any of the big ships. But each ship in the fleet carried, at the very least, scores of irreplaceable people.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Keep up the scans. Let's see if we can find them." Mrowka ordered, "their comms may be out."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>A greater image of the solar system slowly came into view as their equipment restored itself.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Moreno sighed. She checked her displays. There were fifteen-hundred people aboard those three ships. One was a passenger liner, one was a retired patrol ship converted to a private liner(though it still carried some armament), and the third was just a freighter. To lose all three of them could hurt them somewhere further down the line, from the people lost to the priceless equipment they carried.</span>
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>
  <span>A comms rating’s face suddenly lit up, “</span>
  <em>
    <span>Hatsuyuki’s</span>
  </em>
  <span> reporting in! She’s picking up a liner...it’s the </span>
  <em>
    <span>Moth</span>
  </em>
  <span>! The </span>
  <em>
    <span>Moth</span>
  </em>
  <span> is in-system!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>A real cheer went up through the room. A thousand people may have just survived.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Quiet on the bridge!” Rivera said loudly.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Hatsuyuki</span>
  </em>
  <span> is suggesting there was a communication failure,” the comm rating reported, “They’re investigating.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Tell </span>
  <em>
    <span>Hatsuyuki</span>
  </em>
  <span> they have a go, but to only bring them back once we’re sure they really are the </span>
  <em>
    <span>Moth</span>
  </em>
  <span>. Let’s see if that was a real comms failure. Keep corralling the fleet.” Moreno ordered.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Keep scanning for </span>
  <em>
    <span>Mallory</span>
  </em>
  <span> and </span>
  <em>
    <span>Spark</span>
  </em>
  <span>. Get more sensors online.” Mrowka said.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She glanced at the admiral, “What are you worried about with the </span>
  <em>
    <span>Moth</span>
  </em>
  <span>?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Who knows what could’ve happened? I’m just being cautious.” Moreno replied.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>An alarm suddenly chirped. “New sensor data! Three contacts holding position around a space installation. They’re orbiting the gas giant.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Can we identify them yet?” Rivera asked.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Space Force configuration, but they match the ID of Shade Flotilla ships.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Stand down to condition II.” Mrowka ordered, and glanced at Moreno, “...if you don’t mind.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Moreno nodded, "send the </span>
  <em>
    <span>Suffren </span>
  </em>
  <span>to make contact with them. They're to run like hell if those ships even smell funny. I want that smuggler on the observation deck, too."</span>
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Deeper in the system, in orbit of the outpost, were three modern warships, a destroyer, a frigate, and a light cruiser. They were Compact-built, but their insignia was removed. Their hulls had been painted over with purple stripes and had changed any identification codes they broadcast to register as members of the Shade Flotilla. That didn’t mean any of the humans had to like it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The fleet stood back close to shift limits to collect itself while the </span>
  <em>
    <span>Suffren </span>
  </em>
  <span>proceeded in alone. The great warship was at least a third again longer than the Shade light cruiser but could be swatted aside with little effort. The humans just hoped the size would be enough to intimidate them.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Message from the other flagship,” a comms rating on the </span>
  <em>
    <span>Suffren’s </span>
  </em>
  <span>bridge called out, “‘Attention unidentified fleet, you are in Shade Flotilla space. Identify yourselves immediately’.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Captain Long nodded, “Send; we are the Blue Doves, here on invitation from their leaders. If they’re willing to listen, we have one of their contacts who can vouch for us.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The message was sent.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“They say they have no knowledge of a group called the Blue Avians, but they are willing to listen to the contact.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Long smiled a little, “Send; contact is aboard our flagship. We will only allow ships smaller than a frigate to approach to real-time communication range.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>After some negotiation, they got the flotilla cruiser to send a small starship to the fleet. The </span>
  <em>
    <span>Vanguard</span>
  </em>
  <span> met them halfway, unwilling to let them close to the civilians.</span>
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Under Marine guard, and the watchful eye of ONI officer Lieutenant Halverson, Uvei was given access to a comm terminal on the observation deck. He lifted the mike, and took a moment to find the button, “This is Uvei Grein Shovet. I’m a free agent. The Thircin rust when it rains.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Code accepted,</span>
  </em>
  <span>” the comm technician on the other side replied, “</span>
  <em>
    <span>We’ll patch you through to the Contract Officer.</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The terminal crackled, “</span>
  <em>
    <span>This is Alku Rosek Avyer, Contractor Officer speaking. Oh...Damn it all. Uvei, is that you?</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Uvei grinned, “Alku! How’s the revolution life treating you?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>How did you end up--?! Never mind. I don’t want to know. Your code’s been accepted. Would you mind explaining this?</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Uvei’s grin grew wider, “These are some new allies. Nanhar wants to meet them. They need verification that the deal they have struck is still on, and once we have that, an escort to The Station.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Where’d they get their ships? I haven’t seen anything like them! </span>
  </em>
  <span>Who’d</span>
  <em>
    <span> they get them from?</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Uvei’s grin faltered slightly, as the Marine guard stepped into his field of view, “All in good time, friend. Just please, get us that escort. These people aren’t known for being patient.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Minutes later, after the exchange was complete, Lieutenant Halverson looked at Uvei, “You’re a free agent, aren’t you?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Uvei winced, and put up his hands, “Ah, I’m not one of theirs per se, I just work with them a lot. They’re quite paranoid, with good reason. I’m just one of the little people they let sneak in and out. Trust me, I have no interest in joining their fool’s errand. They just pay well for certain goods they can’t get outside of Compact space, and for little bits of information. Honestly, that’s it!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Halverson raised an eyebrow. “That’s it?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span> The Tribune glanced between him and the Marine guard. He looked earnest. “That’s it. I’m just a small-time entrepreneur.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Halverson looked at him for a moment longer, then stood up, and gestured to the Marines. Uvei tensed up, but let out a small sigh of relief when he realized they hadn’t raised their weapons higher than usual. They seemed to believe him.</span>
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It took several days for a courier to be sent out. An uneasy calm between the two groups was maintained. The humans did much-needed repairs to their shift systems. But something was wrong. Or rather, several things. First of all, an announcement had to be made about the missing ships, but another…</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The Naiad had not been sighted since they arrived. Whatever it was gone now. Moreno wondered if it had really been the same ship that saved them, or if their previous readings </span>
  <em>
    <span>were</span>
  </em>
  <span>, as some of Commander Hawkins’ people had suggested,</span>
  <em>
    
  </em>
  <span>just sensor ghosts. Maybe a characteristic of the first ship’s stealth system had glitched their sensors into seeing the ghost, like spots in one’s vision. It </span>
  <em>
    <span>did</span>
  </em>
  <span> keep appearing in the same place repeatedly. Perhaps their shadow was just that, the shadow of an alien vessel that had passed through, accidentally saved them, and moved on without a second thought. Moreno knew it wouldn’t be out of place for their luck.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Still, in the vernacular of the Compact, “Naiad” would qualify. They were gremlins, UFOs, or any number of terms for the unexplained in bygone eras. Still, a sensor ghost was good enough for the UEC Navy. Trickery was a key tool in the toolbox of asymmetrical warfare.</span>
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>
  <strong>
    <span>XXXXX</span>
  </strong>
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>This is the president. I regret to inform you that we have lost contact with the freighter </span>
  </em>
  <span>Carmen</span>
  <em>
    <span>, the freighter </span>
  </em>
  <span>Spark,</span>
  <em>
    <span> and the liner</span>
  </em>
  <span> Signy Mallory</span>
  <em>
    <span>. In the midst of our mad dash from known space, they each confirmed their shift drives were operational and spooled up along with the rest of the fleet’s, but for unknown reasons, over the course of several warp flights, they failed to emerge into normal space. First, the </span>
  </em>
  <span>Carmen </span>
  <em>
    <span>failed to emerge two systems ago, then the </span>
  </em>
  <span>Spark </span>
  <em>
    <span>and the </span>
  </em>
  <span>Signy Mallory</span>
  <em>
    <span> in our present location. We have found no debris. We do not know if they suffered drive failure and were left behind if they could not reenter normal space, or are dramatically off-course. Whatever the case, almost six-hundred people are currently listed as Missing.</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The recorded announcement played quietly on the briefing room monitor, as President Pearce sat at the head of the table. Moreno wondered when the last time a president had made such an announcement was over so few ships. The reunification wars were the only thing that sprang to mind. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She looked around the briefing room. Herself, the president, Captain Mrowka, and several of the fleet captains were in attendance. The military escort captains were busy, and Captain Long and the </span>
  <em>
    <span>Suffren</span>
  </em>
  <span> were on station between the fleet and the Shade Flotilla unit. However, Captain Hudgens was there, along with an unusual presence from the auxiliary and civilian representatives. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So what exactly is happening to our ships?” Pearce asked, “I am well aware that we are pushing them to the limits, it’s natural we’d lose some. But I want to know if we should be more concerned</span>
  <em>
    <span>.</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Moreno’s eyes wandered to the PDAs on the table. They displayed the specifications on the missing ships.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Commander Afolabi attended via telepresence. She grimaced, “</span>
  <em>
    <span>Well, it’s not good. According to the </span>
  </em>
  <span>Moth’s </span>
  <em>
    <span>captain, they suffered a drive failure that delayed their warp maneuver. Safeties kicked in. They had to scramble to get it back online. They </span>
  </em>
  <span>believe </span>
  <em>
    <span>they saw </span>
  </em>
  <span>Mallory </span>
  <em>
    <span>and </span>
  </em>
  <span>Spark </span>
  <em>
    <span>warp, but the energy drain affected their communications and sensors. They didn’t have very good sensors, to begin with.</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She scowled, “</span>
  <em>
    <span>They weren’t taking very good care of them. I gave them a piece of my mind. The liners can’t just rely on our gear to do everything for them! My techs are up to their ears in problems as it is. And now it’s put two ships in danger!</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What kind of problem is it?” Moreno asked, “Keep it simple, Commander. Is this normal deterioration, or are we looking at a more serious problem?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Afolabi scratched her head, “</span>
  <em>
    <span>Well, initial assessments say deterioration. And that’s basically what we’ve got. The ships failed to warp and weren't able to catch up, warped off-course and are now lost, or never exited shift space. We’re guessing that’s the problem all three experienced. I figure either a failsafe shut down the engine before they shifted or they emerged somewhere else. They might have blown right past us.</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She grimaced, “</span>
  <em>
    <span>The trouble is we think we’ve got a parts epidemic.</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>A chill fell over the room.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Afolabi nodded gravely, “Moth </span>
  <em>
    <span>was a few years old, and a liner. </span>
  </em>
  <span>Spark</span>
  <em>
    <span> was ten years old, and a cargo ship. And </span>
  </em>
  <span>Mallory</span>
  <em>
    <span> used twenty-year-old military drive parts. The </span>
  </em>
  <span>Spark</span>
  <em>
    <span> should’ve had more safety features than </span>
  </em>
  <span>Carmen</span>
  <em>
    <span>, --passengers have money and lawyers after all-- and </span>
  </em>
  <span>Mallory</span>
  <em>
    <span> should’ve had similar ones, because of military regulations. But they all suffered the exact same failure. We checked the records. They’re all different ages and from different shipyards, but they all shared a major shift drive component. They were all from the same manufacturer; a company on Proxima III.</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>There were murmurs. She looked around, “...</span>
  <em>
    <span>And it looks like there are five more ships with components from that company. And one of them’s the </span>
  </em>
  <span>Clarke</span>
  <em>
    <span>.</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The </span>
  <em>
    <span>Arthur C Clarke </span>
  </em>
  <span>was one of their</span>
  <em>
    
  </em>
  <span>meager handful of bulk freighters in the fleet, that rivaled their cruisers in size. They each carried a tremendous proportion of the population, tens of thousands of people both in and out of cryo. They also had livestock, genetic data, libraries, and equipment in storage. The loss of even one would be dramatic.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What kind of flaw are we talking about here?” Captain Hudgens asked, “Is this something we can fix?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Afolabi’s expression wasn’t promising, and neither were those of the civilian captains. The repair station commander replied, “</span>
  <em>
    <span>It looks like a lowest-bid contractor. Cheap parts that’ll last so long as you don’t look at them funny. We’ve got some replacements, and we can keep them going a little while longer. We dumped all the bad parts.</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She grimaced again, “</span>
  <em>
    <span>...but I hope you all like steak.</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Those in the room who were career spacers, or those with a spacer family, all winced. The idiom came from an early sublight crawler incident. It meant that something might be good in the short-term, but it might end up stabbing them in the back in the future.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Afolabi continued, </span>
  <em>
    <span>“The bad parts may be gone, but there’s a lot of shift drive components we simply can’t build, and this just compromised a number of them. It just cost us a </span>
  </em>
  <span>lot</span>
  <em>
    <span> of warps somewhere down the line. And the six sick ships we’ve got are still at risk. We don’t know what other problems they might have.</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Oh for the love of-- we’re being killed so some dead rich asshole could make a quick buck,” Hudgens growled and facepalmed.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>One of the civilian captains nodded, “As if this wasn’t bad enough, our ships are wearing out </span>
  <em>
    <span>anyway</span>
  </em>
  <span>. We shouldn’t do another huge maneuver again. Not if you expect us to go very far after. Not without proper yard work.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The civilian captains looked at each other, and the lead speaker hesitated, “We want to know what the end goal is. Do we have one? We know we’re not going to stay with these aliens forever. Where are we going next?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Pearce put his hands together, as he wondered how he should put this. He looked at Admiral Moreno. She had a neutral expression, and he couldn’t read her eyes.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The president looked at the civilians, “It is the admiral’s military opinion that we cannot disclose long-term plans to the entire fleet. The military vessels are the least likely to suffer major drive failure, and have some of the most powerful navigation systems.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“But we were part of the evac project!” a second captain blurted, “We deserve to know where we’re going!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Not everyone in the fleet was part of the project,” Moreno said calmly, “Not anymore. We picked up a lot of strays. And where we’re going is a lot trickier than the colony plans we had. We’re running a much higher risk of losing starships. If we lose another like </span>
  <em>
    <span>Carmen</span>
  </em>
  <span>, our plans might be compromised.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“But…” the lead captain fell silent.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“We deserve to know that there </span>
  <em>
    <span>is</span>
  </em>
  <span> a plan!” snapped the second.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Before Moreno could say anything, Pearce narrowed his gaze at the captain, “You may rest assured that there </span>
  <em>
    <span>is</span>
  </em>
  <span> a plan. The president-- my predecessor wouldn’t have authorized us to take command with the assurances of the Admiralty unless they had the utmost confidence that we could do this. Even if this wasn’t what they expected, they knew they couldn’t foresee everything. If you can’t have faith in us, trust that </span>
  <em>
    <span>they </span>
  </em>
  <span>knew what they were doing.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He looked each captain in the eye, “Some of you </span>
  <em>
    <span>were </span>
  </em>
  <span>selected for the project, and so you should know they knew what they were doing. I can only hope I can live up to their example.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Pearce gestured to the military officers, “Rest assured, I have the greatest confidence in Admiral Moreno and her people. They’re just as human as you or I, and absolutely nothing has changed. We do </span>
  <em>
    <span>have</span>
  </em>
  <span> a plan, you can be certain of that.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He paused, “And you can be sure civilian vessels won’t end up as cannon fodder. Our armaments are the last line of defense, our military will put themselves in harm’s way before they let the rest of us get hurt.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The president smiled, “There is no need to resort to movie cliches. They are still the same people interested in bringing the UEC back as it was as when the first of us left Tau Ceti. They’re not trying to overthrow us.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>There were a few scattered smiles in response.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Pearce became serious again, “We can’t even </span>
  <em>
    <span>think</span>
  </em>
  <span> of tearing each other apart. That’s exactly what the bad guys want. And bouncing off the walls doesn’t help anything. We’re only going to end up right back here. We’ve got a parts epidemic, don’t we? Let’s focus on the real enemy.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>
  <strong>
    <span>XXXXX</span>
  </strong>
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Tragedies aside, a courier drone shifted in with a message for both the Shade Flotilla ships and the UEC fleet, confirming that a deal existed in the first place and that it was still in place. Still, their Naiad stalker had yet to appear.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They had contact with the Shade Flotilla leadership; they were willing to take the refugees in as agreed upon. They would be guided to the flotilla’s home port for negotiations. A Shade frigate in the system maneuvered to link up with the fleet while maintaining a safe distance, and they made their way to shift limits. Word of the part failure had spread through the fleet. Even within the tight formation they held, most ships held an extra kilometer or two of distance from the “sick six”. All held their breath when they finally shifted to the next system.</span>
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The Shade Flotilla’s home port was a little more populated than the first system the humans warped into. There were two gas giants and a number of planets of various shapes and sizes. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>When their sensors came back online, a rating immediately called out, “New sensor data! Compact battleship within weapons range!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>A lone Compact-built battleship sat at the outer edge of the system close to where the UEC fleet jumped in. It was battered and beaten, clearly several years without proper maintenance, but it was still a daunting sight. For many people in the fleet, it was a sign of death. Back in the day those battleships were nigh-invincible and could cut huge swaths through the Confederacy’s best warships. Even the </span>
  <em>
    <span>Vanguard</span>
  </em>
  <span> would have required an entire squadron of battleships alongside to even have a chance of victory. And that would be with </span>
  <em>
    <span>very</span>
  </em>
  <span> good luck.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Moreno didn’t know what made her more nervous; the warship itself or the fact that something could batter it so badly.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“We’ve intercepted a message from the Shade Flotilla frigate! They’re telling the battleship…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The comms department hesitated, then one reported, “It’s in the clear. There’s no code. We’re not detecting any other transmissions. They’re telling the battleship who we are and not to fire.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“The battleship is powering down its weapons.” the sensor department head reported.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Moreno sat back, “Very well. Remain at general quarters until we’re 100% sure.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The communication rating spoke up, “Message from the battleship; they’re welcoming us in the name of the Shade Flotilla. They’re offering us berth space and a meeting with someone of authority.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Moreno put her hands together, “Send a transmission to the battleship. Thank them for their warm welcome. Tell them with all due respect, but we’re not going to put into the berths just yet. We’re going to collect ourselves here first. We want to meet with someone out here at shift limits before we do anything else.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Commander Rivera!” the comms division officer suddenly cried, “We’re picking up a distress call from the </span>
  <em>
    <span>Arthur C Clarke</span>
  </em>
  <span>!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>A litany of angry curses ran through Moreno’s head.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The comms division reported, “They report major, repeat </span>
  <em>
    <span>major</span>
  </em>
  <span> shift drive failure!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>A visual from an external camera appeared on one of the view screens. The </span>
  <em>
    <span>Arthur C Clarke </span>
  </em>
  <span>was a cylinder with the edges rounded off, and spokes that jutted out at various points. At first, they couldn’t see the damage...until a small cloud of debris bloomed from the freighter’s stern. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What kind of damage do they have?” Moreno asked.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Their sub-light drives are out. They’re reporting casualties. The </span>
  <em>
    <span>Hecla</span>
  </em>
  <span> is en route to assist.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Moreno cursed internally again, “Direct every asset the fleet can to help them, but </span>
  <em>
    <span>Vanguard</span>
  </em>
  <span> can’t do anything else. Put us between the fleet and the Commie BB.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yes ma’am,” Mrowka nodded and looked expectantly at her XO.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Rivera stood up. He looked around at some of the expressions of the crew, “You heard the admiral. Focus on your work. There’s nothing we can do that the rest of the fleet can’t.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“The Shade battleship is hailing us. They’re wondering if we need any assistance.” another comms officer said.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Moreno replied, “Tell them one of our ships has suffered a malfunction. They’re to keep their distance. Their assistance is not required. We’re going to hold off on sending a diplomatic party until the situation is resolved.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Now all they could do was wait. Moreno studied the holo imager as sensor data came in. There were a number of colonies on the outer planets, and a large settlement on a barely-habitable world on the goldilocks zone. Large asteroid stations sat at the planet’s L4 and L5 points. They were Unbound space stations.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A scattered handful of former Compact expansion fleet vessels were stationed throughout the system, painted with the Shade Flotilla’s purple stripes. And several primitive, yet capable, shift-capable vessels were on trajectories to and from the system’s shift limits. They looked like they were a few centuries behind the UEC fleet’s level of technology.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Charitable of them,” Moreno commented, “Looks like the Shades are putting their settlement between the Compact and the less advanced races’ homeworlds.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Mrowka grimaced, “Have you seen any of their settlements in this system? Any that aren’t owned by the Shades at least? And none of their ships are with the battleship. I think the Shades are taking over negotiation. There’s not much different from if the Commies were in control.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“At least they still </span>
  <em>
    <span>have </span>
  </em>
  <span>their own ships,” Moreno pointed out.</span>
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>
  <span>A few minutes later, the comms division had an update, “Report from </span>
  <em>
    <span>Clarke</span>
  </em>
  <span>. No damage to the storage bays or living quarters. They’re still doing system checks, but casualties are low. The engineering spaces took the brunt of them. The current total is fifteen dead, and fifty wounded.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Moreno sighed with relief, then winced. Engineering personnel would’ve been wearing safety equipment, they would survive damage that would’ve killed a lot more people in other sections. However, that was still fifteen more lives. Fifteen fewer free human beings in the galaxy.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>A comms rating got the admiral’s attention, “Ma’am? We've got an urgent message from </span>
  <em>
    <span>Hecla</span>
  </em>
  <span> actual.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Moreno nodded, “I’ll take it.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It was transferred to her console, and she touched a control, “</span>
  <em>
    <span>Hecla</span>
  </em>
  <span> actual, this is </span>
  <em>
    <span>Vanguard</span>
  </em>
  <span> actual. What do you have for me?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>She’s totaled.</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Excuse me, Commander?” Moreno asked, and quickly switched the audio to her headset, “What do you mean totaled?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>All systems go. Everything except the most important one. Stasis units, cargo bays, sublight, life support...anything that’s been damaged in those we can repair with enough time. But the shift drive is totaled. They had a rapid unscheduled disassembly of a warp portal actuator. We don’t have another one of those. We’d need an actual Navy shipyard to fix this one. She's not going </span>
  </em>
  <span>anywhere.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>A huge burst of an anxious sense like claustrophobia gripped the admiral for a moment. She spoke in a low voice, “The Shade’s shipyard. You said </span>
  <em>
    <span>Clarke’s</span>
  </em>
  <span> sub-light is still operational? Can </span>
  <em>
    <span>Clarke </span>
  </em>
  <span>limp in?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Honestly, ma’am, I don’t know. I don’t know if their systems will be compatible. It’s a profound difference. It might work, it might not. Either way...we’re in trouble.</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Moreno cursed. Well, at least they were out of the frying pan. It was impossible to say if they were in the fire or not though.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Do what you can to effect repairs. I want </span>
  <em>
    <span>Clarke</span>
  </em>
  <span> sublight mobile at the very least. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Vanguard </span>
  </em>
  <span>actual out.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Moreno clicked her headset off. She turned to the other two senior officers, who were in conversation.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Something about this doesn’t sit right. To get a battleship and its attendant fleet turned against the Compact?” Rivera asked, “That’s a lot of people.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“It clearly hasn’t worked all that well. They’re holding together through sheer force of charisma and guns,” Mrowka grumbled, “Why do you think they’re so desperate to get </span>
  <em>
    <span>our</span>
  </em>
  <span> help?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’d still like to know exactly what evidence got them to rebel in the first place.” Rivera muttered, “does it seem like a good idea to trust these people even if we don’t know what kind of rebels they are?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“That’s a very good point, Commander,” Moreno said, “I’d like to know that as well.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What’s the word from Afolabi, ma’am?” Mrowka asked.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Clarke’s</span>
  </em>
  <span> okay, she’s going to need repairs but…”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The admiral became acutely aware of the bridge crew again, “We’re going to need to set up negotiations. Quickly.”</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0010"><h2>10. Far Above the Moon</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Planet Earth is blue, and there's nothing I can do...</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>"<em> Mayday, mayday, mayday! Raiders, raiders, raiders! This is the merchant ship  </em> Carmen <em> ! We're under attack! We’re at minimum shift limits fifty-nine degrees GC! Our main power is out. We cannot shift. Our sublight drives are offline. Our weapons are offline. Our shields are gone. Mayday, mayday, mayday! Raiders, raiders, raiders! </em>"</p><p> </p><p>The <em> Carmen </em>  drifted on the edge of a solar system, fifty-nine degrees from the system’s orientation to the galactic center. It was surrounded by half a dozen smaller craft. The freighter shuddered from another near miss. A cargo container on the side of the vessel was scorched, and something in it exploded. The raiders flew back and forth, accelerating this way and that, like piranhas around a great beast. The freighter’s biggest gun had been destroyed in the initial volleys, not that  <em> Carmen  </em>had the power to fire. She was dead in space.</p><p> </p><p><em> "Mayday, mayday, mayday! Raiders, raiders, raiders! We’re under attack! Minimum shift limits fifty-nine degrees GC! Can anyone hear me? Please, we're a civilian transport! Mayday, mayday, mayday! Raiders, raiders, raiders! </em>"</p><p> </p><p>The antenna was remarkably unscathed. Perhaps the pirates enjoyed their screams. On the other hand, with such an out of date design, they may have been having trouble finding vital points on the large vessel.</p><p> </p><p>Captain Tovia Carmody, an old yet spry woman, watched as her home died around her. This wasn't just a ship, this was her family business. This was her home. And these evil bastards were trying to destroy it when they couldn't even hit back.</p><p> </p><p>The comms officer still clung to their mike, "Mayday, mayday, mayday! Raiders, raiders, raiders! We're under attack!"</p><p> </p><p>Carmody snarled to herself. Some damned contractor dead thousands of years ago had completely ruined their power systems, and damned in-system raiders were gonna be the death of her. Not the commies, but  <em> damned in-systemers! </em></p><p> </p><p>"Mayday, mayday, mayday! Raiders, raiders, raiders!"</p><p> </p><p>The <em> Carmen </em>  was stranded; they’d warped in with the rest of the fleet and meant to stay only for the hours needed to charge the shift drive. The Navy told them there was a small settlement on one of the local planets, but nothing too big. When they spooled up the drive, the energy drain taxed their old reactor as usual. Then when they tried to warp, something caused a critical drive failure. And  <em> that </em> had completely SCRAM’d the reactor and disabled their systems. They were running on batteries. The freighter drifted out at shift limits and attracted the attention of a local settlement deeper in the system. That was a bunch of pirates.</p><p> </p><p>"Mayday, mayday, mayday! Raiders, raiders, raiders!"</p><p> </p><p>They didn't know if the fleet was still out there somewhere. But they couldn't just sit here. There had to be somebody out there. Maybe their Naiad shadow would help them. They had to do <em> something. </em></p><p> </p><p>"Mayday, mayday, mayday! Raiders, raiders, raiders!"</p><p> </p><p>Carmody scowled. She remembered people like this in the decades before the war. They didn’t have shift drives, these were the equivalent of speedboats with guns strapped to them. They serviced single systems and could not go beyond them without a carryall. They were those upstart states the feds wouldn’t take care of, the unofficial corporate raiders, those failed colonies who didn’t want to do an honest day's work and go after other people’s hard-earned labor.</p><p> </p><p><em> No way. We’re not losing to these in-system low-lives.  </em> Especially  <em> not alien ones. </em></p><p> </p><p>Regardless of whether her opinions of desperate people were right or not, or her less-than-stellar understanding of geopolitics, Carmody was angry. Some FTL merchants in human space looked down on STL crews, even if they shared traditions. The tension went back generations, all the way back to the Unification Wars. Some of the colonies made by sub-light crawlers had attacked the first FTL freighters to reach their systems, there had been a few rebellions, there was all sorts of emotional and cultural baggage. And these were <em> alien </em> in-system pirates.</p><p> </p><p>“We get out here and <em> this </em> is what kills us,” Carmody grumbled.</p><p> </p><p>Her chief engineer, a cousin, entered the bridge and stumbled as the ship shook, “The main reactor is completely dead. We’ll have to restart it.”</p><p> </p><p>“What about weapons? Shields? <em> Anything </em>?” Carmody demanded.</p><p> </p><p>“I’ve got a crew trying to get some equipment from the hold, and they think there might be some mine containers somewhere, but…”</p><p> </p><p>The engineer shrugged, “Tovia, we might have to surrender.”</p><p> </p><p>She glowered at him, “I’m not giving up our ship!”</p><p> </p><p>Carmody looked at her second, her younger brother, “Landen! Break out rifles, we’ll get them when they try to board us!”</p><p> </p><p>“Captain! I’m getting a signal!” shouted the comms officer.</p><p> </p><p>Carmody whirled about, “What?”</p><p> </p><p>The sensor operator managed to get her battered arrays to work, “Warp signature detected!” </p><p> </p><p>“Is it the fleet?” Landen demanded.</p><p> </p><p>“I can’t tell, the sensors are shot all to hell. There’s three of them, now two million klicks away, looks like they came in a few hours ago, our transmission should’ve reached them…”</p><p> </p><p>“What are they doing so far away? Aren’t they looking for us?” Carmody’s cousin asked.</p><p> </p><p>The comms officer went pale.</p><p> </p><p>“What is it?” Carmody shouted, “Come on!”</p><p> </p><p>He wordlessly unplugged his headset.</p><p> </p><p>“Carmen,<em>  this is the  </em> Twilight Compunction <em>  of escort squadron 139-A, Compact Space Force. We are en route to your position to assist. ETA thirty minutes. </em>”</p><p> </p><p>The entire bridge fell silent beyond alarms and the sound of impacts on the hull.</p><p> </p><p>“W-we intercepted another transmission,” the comms officer gulped and hit a control.</p><p> </p><p>“Twilight Compunction <em> to enemy craft. Break off your attack immediately or we will fire upon you. </em>”</p><p> </p><p>“What the hell? The <em> Vanguard </em> said there weren’t going to be any Commie ships out here! What’s a whole squadron doing out here?” Landen demanded.</p><p> </p><p>Carmody didn’t move. She couldn’t blink. She couldn’t breathe. Images of Commie frigates ran through her mind. Images of freighters that came back from naval convoys, trailing debris, and venting atmosphere. A photo of ships just like the <em> Carmen </em> blasted to pieces splattered across every headline one nightmarish Saturday morning. They’d lost the war. Those frigates would be all over them. Would they accept surrender? Or would they kill them right here?</p><p> </p><p>She remembered the sight of her daughter’s ship as it departed. <em> “In war, fathers bury their sons”... </em></p><p> </p><p>Carmody looked at the photo taped to the side of her console. <em> Dani... </em></p><p> </p><p>Her blood boiled. <em> In war, mothers avenge their daughters. </em></p><p> </p><p>Her fear turned to anger. In-system pirates didn’t scare her. Why should she let a bunch of puppies scare her?</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>“<em> Go to hell, feds, </em> ” snarled the pirate on the radio, “ <em> This is our turf! </em>”</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>On what sensors functioned, two of the raiders broke off and burned for their hideout in the system. Five remained. They accelerated toward the three incoming contacts. They were either brave or quite stupid.</p><p> </p><p>Carmody grabbed her engineer by the collar, “Get that damned shift drive online! Get us <em> outta here </em>!”</p><p> </p><p>She released him, then looked at Landen, “I want those weapons out!”</p><p> </p><p>Within minutes, the raiders engaged the Compact escorts. They didn’t stand a chance. They put up a good fight, but it reminded Carmody too much of the battles she’d seen during the war.</p><p> </p><p>Two were destroyed. One drifted dead in space. The remainder broke off their attacks. The Compact squadron broke formation, and two went to follow the enemy ships. The third approached the crippled <em> Carmen. </em></p><p> </p><p>“Carmen<em> , this is the  </em> Twilight Compunction <em> . Are you receiving us? </em>”</p><p> </p><p>The frigate powered down weapons and made a burn to match course with the ship. Even as Carmody’s blood boiled, she realized they’d been right. The Compact <em> had  </em>forgotten. A cold satisfaction chilled her fury. They’d never see it coming.</p><p> </p><p>She hit a control, “Engineering. What’s the status of the reactor? Can we get it online before they get close?”</p><p> </p><p>“<em> Negative! Tovia, with just the batteries, we can’t get it back online within a few hours! You  </em> know that <em> ! We have to surrender! </em>”</p><p> </p><p>It was a pretty compelling idea. Without the rest of the fleet, they could fake it. They could fake something and maybe escape. And they couldn’t make a very big blast without the reactor.</p><p> </p><p>Dani’s ghost hovered behind her. No. No surrender. Not while they still had an option.</p><p> </p><p>“Captain? What are we doing?” Landen asked.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>“Carmen,<em>  come in. If you’re receiving, please signal us in some way. </em>”</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>“Activate sublight drives.” Carmody slowly turned to her brother, “Landen. Do we still have scuttling charges?”</p><p> </p><p>Her sibling looked back at her, “You…”</p><p> </p><p>“We have to try it. Do we still have them?”</p><p> </p><p>“Tovi, please!”</p><p> </p><p>Carmody slammed a fist on her console, “Check the charges! If those navy pukes did their work right, we might be able to take them out with us!”</p><p> </p><p>“Tovi, this is our home! Our grandkids are on-board, please, don’t do this!”</p><p> </p><p>Carmody snarled at another crew member, “You, go and activate the scuttling charges! Do it <em> now </em>!”</p><p> </p><p>The crewmember looked at Landen, then rushed out of the room.</p><p> </p><p>“Captain? What do I tell the puppies?” the comms officer asked.</p><p> </p><p>“Tell them to pull alongside! We’re in desperate need of assistance! Give them the entire rundown!”</p><p> </p><p>“Tovia--!”</p><p> </p><p>Landen grabbed Carmody’s arm, and she threw him off, “Engineering, get the charges ready! Someone hold Landen!”</p><p> </p><p>A nervous crewmember came up and grabbed him. Another followed after a moment’s hesitation.</p><p> </p><p>“Goddammit let go of me! Tovi you’re going to kill us all!”</p><p> </p><p>“Get him out of here!” Carmody snapped.</p><p> </p><p>“<em> Scuttling charges are online, </em> ” the PA crackled, “ <em> standing by. </em>”</p><p> </p><p>“Enemy ship says they’re offering help. They’re asking us to identify ourselves properly and what we’re doing out here. They want all our records.”</p><p> </p><p>“Bunch of thugs…” Carmody muttered.</p><p> </p><p>An old song rang through her mind. <em> We’re free ships and crew, and we go where we please, we’ll haul you to hell and no more... </em></p><p> </p><p>The enemy vessel came closer. <em> And no sun can hold us and keep us for long, for infinity’s ours and infinity’s free... </em></p><p> </p><p>“They still haven’t powered weapons,” the sensor operator reported, fear in her voice, “Their shields are at minimum power.”</p><p> </p><p>“Of course. We’re one big happy fleet. We’re just a little merchant ship.” Carmody muttered. The <em> Carmen </em> was over twice the size of the frigate.</p><p> </p><p>The enemy vessel drew closer and closer. Carmody picked up Dani’s photo. She glanced at the vessel’s bulbous silhouette against the stars on a camera, and ordered, “All power to engines. Give me ramming speed.” </p><p> </p><p>There was a brief moment of acceleration. “This is all we’re going to get out of her.” the nav officer reported.</p><p> </p><p>Carmody nodded, “With luck, they’ll think we’re matching their course. Overload all remaining power systems. Set the charges!”</p><p> </p><p>“<em> Roger that. </em>” engineering replied.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>The radio crackled, “Twilight Compunction <em> to  </em> Carmen <em> ; We’re detecting an energy spike. Change course immediately! Change course  </em> now <em> ! </em>”</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>“Let them wonder, and keep us on course,” Carmody muttered and looked at the photo in her hands.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>Suddenly engineering squawked, “<em> Bridge, come in! Bridge! Tovia...the charges are dead. </em>”</p><p> </p><p>The bridge went silent again.</p><p> </p><p>Carmody snatched up the mike, “Engineering. Repeat that?”</p><p> </p><p>“<em> The charges are broken. I mean, the charges themselves are online, but they won’t go off. The detonator fried. I don’t know what happened, it might’ve been a power surge, I dunno! The charges are  </em> dead <em> !” </em></p><p> </p><p>Carmody cursed and punched her console. “Break off! Break off! Cut engines!” she barked at the comms officer, “We surrender! Tell them we surrender!”</p><p> </p><p>The officer repeated it into the mike, listened for a moment, then reported, “They’re saying to stand down and prepare to be boarded and we’d better have a hell of an explanation!”</p><p> </p><p>Carmody stuffed Dani’s photo in her pocket. <em> I’m sorry, Dani. I’ll keep your grandkids safe as long as I can. </em></p><p>She picked up her mike, “Attention all personnel, we are going to be boarded! Repeat, prepare for boarding! Do <em> not </em> , repeat,  <em> do not </em> , fight back! But trash everything, I repeat, trash  <em> everything </em>! Trash your computers, equipment, anything that could be useful! Most of all, destroy all nav data! Destroy all records of maps, transmissions, anything that could tell them about the fleet!”</p><p> </p><p>She added, “And get my brother back up here.”</p><p> </p><p>With that, she stood up, tore the mike out of the console, and smashed the intercom with her boot.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>
  <strong> XXXXX </strong>
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>Sharif couldn’t believe their luck. More than that, he couldn’t believe the cruelty of The Patron.</p><p> </p><p>The Xeno paleontologists were ecstatic. The frigate squadron had rescued one of the Blue Avians ships. It was another ancient human vessel, ancient even for the war. It would make an interesting museum piece in the deep archives. And they’d rescued the crew. A crew of eighty human adults and children. <em> Children! </em> It made him sick. The Patron didn’t just manipulate soldiers, they’d manipulated civilians.</p><p> </p><p>When Janissaries boarded, they’d found handheld weapons locked away, the crew passive(with a few exceptions that necessitated medical attention)...and the entire vessel’s systems vandalized. They were <em> terrified </em> of the soldiers, far more than any Compact citizen should be. Families huddled in their compartments in fear. The crew scrunched down to make themselves unnoticed.</p><p> </p><p>The <em> Twilight Compunction’s </em> commander said the freighter tried to ram them and insisted they be punished. Sharif knew the charges, and he would take them into custody. However, he didn’t know the context, and he couldn’t turn them over just yet. The Patron had opened such deep wounds...until he knew the context, he couldn’t charge them. Once he did, he’d bring them to the courts and let them sort it out. They might also make good bargaining chips with the rest of the Blue Avians. They were brought aboard his flagship.</p><p> </p><p>The interrogation logs of the crew made for an interesting read. The “captain” of the vessel, Carmody, was scared, yet stubborn. Sharif watched the recordings. The woman had short hair, wore a ragged set of overalls, and clutched a crumpled photo in her hands.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>“<em> In the Earth year 1953, the killer known as the Son of Sam shot six people and wounded seven others. When they arrested him, he said his dog made him do it. </em>”</p><p> </p><p>“<em> Mrs. Carmody, what relevance does this have? Where did you find your ship? Who gave it to you? </em>”</p><p> </p><p>Her grip tightened on the photo in her hand, and her voice was rough, “<em> In the Earth year 1888, Jack the Ripper terrorized London, killing, uh...a lot of people. </em>”</p><p> </p><p>“<em> Mrs. Carmody, please, what are you talking about? </em>”</p><p> </p><p>“<em> J-Josef Mengele was a monstrous government-employed serial killer empowered to carry out his crimes between 1941 and 1945. If the war hadn’t happened, he probably would’ve become one of the ones like Ted Bundy. Or something. He killed and mutilated tens of thousands of people. </em>”</p><p> </p><p>“<em> ...what? Who--? What? </em>”</p><p> </p><p>She shrugged, “<em> He conducted experiments on people of certain ethnic groups with an obsession with twins and shit. He got a lot of useless information and mostly just killed a lot of people in the Nazi death camps. </em>”</p><p> </p><p>“<em> Death camps?! By the Triarchs, what kind of sick stories are these? </em>"</p><p> </p><p>"<em> They're historical records. </em>"</p><p> </p><p>She scratched her head and clutched the photo to her chest. “<em> Beria...damn, what was his first name? You could argue he was a serial killer I suppose, he was famous as a serial rapist before he was executed by the Soviet Executive Committee. </em>”</p><p> </p><p>The interrogator was getting more agitated, “<em> Look, Mrs. Carmody, do you know what’s going to happen to you if you don’t answer my questions? </em>”</p><p> </p><p>Carmody snorted, and her voice calmed, “<em> I’ll be killed. Getting shot was probably only the minimum that man deserved. </em>”</p><p> </p><p>“<em> Then answer my questions! </em>”</p><p> </p><p>Carmody looked at the interrogator, opened her mouth to snap something, then looked away. Her voice became scared again, “<em> Ted Bundy killed thirty people in the 1970s and they killed him with the electric chair in 1989 </em>.”</p><p> </p><p>“<em> Wait, the  </em> what <em> ? </em>”</p><p> </p><p>“<em> They used to kill people with electricity. </em>”</p><p> </p><p>The interrogator looked at the camera, then back at her, “<em> Yeah, but...but a chair? </em>”</p><p> </p><p>“<em> Yep. </em>”</p><p> </p><p>The interrogator rubbed his face, all four eyes closed, “<em> Mrs. Carmody… </em>”</p><p> </p><p>She touched the photo to her head, “<em> Jeffrey Dahmer killed and ate seventeen males over thirteen years. </em>”</p><p> </p><p>“...<em> What the fuck? </em>”</p><p> </p><p>“<em> I know, right? </em>”</p><p> </p><p>The interrogator spoke slowly, “<em> Madam, please listen to reason. We detected an energy spike coming from your ship. Were you trying to scuttle it? </em>”</p><p> </p><p>Carmody’s hands twitched. She buried her face in her hands.</p><p> </p><p>“<em> Carmody, this won’t help you. We need to know everything. </em>”</p><p> </p><p>“<em> Just turn the gas on! </em> ” she suddenly snapped, “ <em> Just turn the gas on already! It’s what you do, isn’t it?! </em>”</p><p> </p><p>“<em> Mrs. Carmody… </em>”</p><p> </p><p>“<em> You’re not going to get anything out of me! You took away everything I loved, you took my ship, you took my family, and you killed my daughter! You bastards killed her! </em> ” </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>Sharif shut off the recording. He had expected name, rank, and serial number, not whatever this was. Perhaps she was showing off that she learned new information about Earth. Further interrogation revealed little aside from her identity, the name of her ship, and anything else you could normally get from public records; the case was the same with the rest of the crew.</p><p>Sharif grimaced. Not that they could <em> get </em>  public records. They had no idea what databases these people were in. The Rally government had yet to get back to them. All that Sharif’s staff knew was the Broken crew wasn’t in lists of mass murderers, pirates, or tax evaders. These people were without valid identification, with a ship the likes of which hadn’t been sighted in two-thousand nine-hundred and fifty years. And they were  <em> afraid </em> of the Janissaries.</p><p> </p><p>He cursed to himself. The Patron would pay for this. They had to find the rest of these people, rescue them, and find out what exactly was going on. This crew should have more answers, but how would they get anything out of them?</p><p> </p><p>The column leader prime checked the reports over again, this time to seek the interviews with the other members of the crew. They were just as terrified as their captain, if not more.</p><p> </p><p><em> Captain, or clan matriarch. </em> Several of the crew shared her name. The presence of families told him this was a similar setup to many freighters throughout Compact space. </p><p> </p><p>Sharif rubbed his face again in exhaustion. He kept thinking about the captain's interrogation. Death camps. He knew of such things. From history classes, from reports of the war with the Principality. No civilized species did that. And such a list of murderers, how had Earth had so many? The number of old wounds The Patron ripped open just climbed higher and higher.</p><p> </p><p>What a piece of work a Broken was, how distinguished in their capacity for reason, how infinite in faculty, how powerful in action, and how powerful in understanding. Like all client races. But unlike other client races, what a piece of work a <em> human  </em>was. How distinguished they could be in their capacity for engineering engines of destruction, their unlimited cleverness for finding new ways to kill, the power of their sheer numbers, and tactics to challenge even Compact forces.</p><p> </p><p>The Compact officer abruptly sat up straight. For all his opinions on Broken, he’d never actually <em> met </em> one. Now was the perfect opportunity. They may be terrified of the crew, but he should be able to deal with them, especially with his open-minded attitude. And his rank might be enough to knock some sense into them.</p><p>Sharif stood up and sent a message to his aide to set up a meeting with Mrs. Carmody. As he waited, he examined the video feed of the Broken in holding in one of the cargo bays.</p><p> </p><p>They were clustered together in several circles, huddled toward the center of the chamber. Several wore uniforms or outfits similar to Mrs. Carmody, dirty and worn coveralls in various colors, while others wore jackets and pants, or more casual clothing. They looked exhausted and scared, but not as hungry as he’d anticipated. That was odd. He wouldn’t have thought The Patron would be that kind.</p><p> </p><p>Sharif pulled more of the interrogation and observation reports. There hadn’t been as much trouble as his more overzealous subordinates had anticipated, but there had been some. There were broken bones and various injuries not just among the Broken, but on his crew. There were a few video clips of more incidents, including a few that were forwarded to him directly. One caught his eye.</p><p> </p><p>It was an incident report from one of the ship’s medical staff. They’d taken a number of the sick and wounded Broken to the medical bay on arrival, as well as all the children, for examination, and they’d been quite belligerent. They attempted to explain they were going to return everyone safe and sound, but the Broken had been very unreasonable and inflicted numerous injuries while they took the sick and children into custody.</p><p>Sharif knew they’d be pretty sensitive about their children, as any reasonable species was, but surely they could understand the need to examine them, for their own safety! Who knew what had happened to the poor children in their time in captivity? He shook his head, the entire species was little more than children themselves, and they were scared.</p><p> </p><p>The doctor had filed the report after they’d returned the missing personnel. He said some of his staff had been injured during examinations. Even the children were unreasonable, with numerous bites, kicks, and one stabbed orderly. The medical officer hadn’t called them monsters, but there was certainly an attitude to the report. Sharif watched the video feed as the handful of children sprinted back to their parents, who met them halfway with open arms and tears of joy. They held them close as if they feared the universe itself would rip them away again. Hardly a bunch of uncivilized monsters.</p><p> </p><p>Adult male and female Broken, old and young, closed ranks between the parents and the Janissaries. By the looks of it, they <em> expected </em>  an attack. And the children’s faces...what had The Patron done? The parents hadn’t seized them out of their fear, their children had run  <em> from  </em>the Janissaries back into their arms. Sharif knew that if the rest of the Blue Avians were like this, they might run to the safety of anyone who held out a box of rations to them.</p><p> </p><p>A text message from his aide, appeared in the corner of his screen, “<em> With all due respect, Column Leader Prime, are you certain this is necessary? </em>”</p><p> </p><p>Sharif typed back, “<em> Yes. We must speak to these people to understand them. I do not intend to hide from them. </em>”</p><p> </p><p>With a little more effort, Sharif ordered his reluctant aide to let the cell guards know he was coming down to meet Captain Carmody.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>About an hour later, the group leader prime took an elevator down to the cell level. The crew gave salutes as he passed.</p><p>The stockade complex had tripled the guard in front of the main hatch, with an entire squad of janissaries instead of a single fireteam. The Advocate in charge sat behind a desk, while the rest sat around tables or chairs of their own. She was busy arguing with one of her staff when Sharif walked in followed by his aide.</p><p> </p><p>“Column Leader Prime on deck!” she barked with a voice crack of surprise, and she and her staff shot to their feet.</p><p> </p><p>Sharif returned their salutes, “Good evening, I trust you got my aide’s messages?”</p><p> </p><p>The Advocate winced, “Ah, we did, sir, but...with all due respect…” she shot a glare at the Advocate Submissive she’d been arguing with, “...we had some logistical foul-ups. One of our computers crashed and we uh...didn’t know to take it seriously.”</p><p> </p><p>She paused, “With all due respect, sir, I honestly didn’t expect this. Are you sure this is necessary? You’ve seen one Broken, you’ve seen 'em all.”</p><p> </p><p>Sharif smiled a little, “Well, <em> I </em> haven’t seen one before. I’d like to talk to their leader if you please.”</p><p> </p><p>The Advocate glanced around, “I’m not sure I have the facilities for--”</p><p> </p><p>“It is just one Broken,” Sharif’s aide spoke up, “and an old one at that. Surely a Janissary doesn’t need specialized facilities for an old 1.6-meter-tall client, do they?”</p><p> </p><p>“Uh-- uh-- No! No sir!” The Advocate gestured at two of her staff, “You two, please escort the Column Leader Prime.”</p><p> </p><p>Sharif nodded to his aide, “Thank you Pack Leader,” he looked at the Advocate, “I think one guard shall suffice.”</p><p> </p><p>The Advocate’s eyes widened in alarm, “Sir, you don’t know how unpredictable--”</p><p> </p><p>“She’s a Compact citizen like any of us. I hardly think, even as far as these humans have fallen, that they will resort to anything rash and self-destructive. I have complete faith in this convert,” he gestured to one of the soldiers the Advocate pointed to, “Furthermore, it’s just one Broken.”</p><p> </p><p>“Uh...yes, sir.” With a glance at the column leader prime’s aide, she led the way to the hatch and opened it. The complex was designed for members of the crew who misbehaved, and some POWs, but wasn’t very expansive. There were a few crew currently in holding and several of the Broken crew.</p><p> </p><p>Sharif noted how frightened the Janissaries appeared to be...no, wary would be the polite word. But why? All the Broken had was bare hands and teeth, and not particularly sharp teeth. </p><p> The convert passed several cells before reaching one in particular. He inserted an old-style key and entered a code into the manual keypad that unhoused itself. The convert touched another control, and spoke into a microphone, “Stand clear of the door.”</p><p> </p><p>“Is that necessary?” Sharif asked.</p><p> </p><p>“Standard procedure, sir.” the Advocate replied, “We’ll be here if you need us.”</p><p> </p><p>Sharif suppressed a sigh, then followed the Convert into the cell. It was one of the larger ones, meant for interrogation as well as habitation, with a table in the center. Mrs. Carmody stood at the back of the cell in front of the oversized bed. She looked extremely nervous. Her eyes darted between Sharif, the guard, and the closing door. She didn’t look like a monster.</p><p> </p><p>Sharif smiled pleasantly and walked forward, hands behind his back. He stopped near the table, cleared his throat, and said, “<em> Hello, and greetings to you all </em>!"</p><p> </p><p>Carmody’s head twitched back in surprise. Sharif grinned, then switched back to Compact Standard. "I'm sorry, did I say that right? I don't have much experience in English."</p><p> </p><p>Carmody furrowed her brow, then looked wide-eyed at him. "Beth yw'r uffern ydych chi'n ei ddweud, ci bach?"</p><p> </p><p>Sharif frowned. They'd used translator devices in the interrogation rooms. He assumed the Broken was just being stubborn and spoke in an old tongue as a way to show off what they knew. But he'd hoped rank would get her to calm down a bit and speak properly. They <em> were </em> civilized beings.</p><p> </p><p>"Mrs. Carmody, I am Column Leader Prime Sharif. Allow me to extend my deepest--"</p><p> </p><p>"Dydych chi ddim yn deall! Dwi ddim yn siarad ci!" She snapped. The woman took a step back, and her hand went to a breast pocket.</p><p> </p><p>Sharif felt a pang of sympathy. Was she expecting to be beaten? "Mrs. Carmody, I don't know--"</p><p> </p><p>"Nid wyf yn gwybod beth rydych chi'n ei ddweud!" She barked, and pointed at her ears, “<em> Dwi ddim yn siarad ci! </em>"</p><p> </p><p>Sharif furrowed his brow again. Yet again the woman stepped back. “Ceisiwch wrando'n arafach!"</p><p> </p><p>He reluctantly pulled an earpiece out of his pocket, attached it, then switched on the translator. He couldn’t help it that much if she was this stubborn. "Very well, I shall play your game. But Mrs. Carmody, surely you still remember how to speak Compact Standard."</p><p> </p><p>Her head snapped up. She took a few steps forward. "The hell I <em> don't </em> ,  <em> sais </em>!"</p><p> </p><p>Sharif grimaced but decided it wasn't worth it. "Mrs. Carmody, I am Column Leader Prime Sharif. Allow me to extend my deepest apologies for what had happened to you. At the same time, I must tell you that you may be put on trial for your crimes in the future. However, I can guarantee a fair trial of your peers."</p><p> </p><p>Carmody blinked.</p><p> </p><p>She blinked again.</p><p> </p><p>She blinked a third time.</p><p> </p><p>And then she punched him in the stomach with all her might.</p><p> </p><p>Sharif doubled over in pain. Even for a Tribune, with enough surprise, that would hurt. </p><p> </p><p>Immediately the guard raised his rifle and bashed Carmody in the face. She fell to the deck with a cry and spat blood, curses, and several teeth.</p><p> </p><p>The guard raised his rifle, and Sharif's eyes widened. "No!"</p><p> </p><p>He rammed his bulk into the guard's arm, spoiling his aim just in time. A round tore through the captain's short hair.</p><p> </p><p>"No! Don't you dare fire that weapon again, soldier!" Sharif snarled. He held his stomach with one hand, and the guard's rifle with the other.</p><p> </p><p>"It's an animal! We have to put it down!" The guard snapped back.</p><p> </p><p>"At ease, Convert, or you're going to be put on report!"</p><p> </p><p>"But sir--"</p><p> </p><p>"<em> At ease </em>!" He shouted. He could barely hear himself over the ringing in his ears.</p><p> </p><p>Carmody coughed and choked. Blood trickled across the deck. She moaned and held her mouth. She was lucky her jaw hadn't been dislocated. The side of her face was covered in blood. It looked like half her teeth were missing; not that he remembered how many they had to start with. Numerous small muscles had been damaged across her cheek, her eye was puffy and red, and somewhat squashed.</p><p> </p><p>Sharif looked on in horror. He hoped she could still see. </p><p> </p><p>The door locks finally disengaged and the other janissaries burst into the room, weapons at the ready. "Are you hurt sir?" The Advocate demanded.</p><p> </p><p>"At ease! All of you!" Sharif barked, "we need a medic in here <em> immediately </em>!"</p><p> </p><p>The janissary's eyes widened, and grabbed her radio, "we need a medic in the brig. The column leader prime has been wounded!"</p><p> </p><p>Sharif's jaw hit the floor or did the Tribune equivalent. "Not for me, for <em> her! </em>"</p><p> </p><p>He gestured at the fallen human. She had moved one hand from her jaw, and groped around for something. Maybe she was looking for her teeth.</p><p> </p><p>"For her, sir?" The janissary asked.</p><p> </p><p>Sharif rolled his eyes, "she's been badly wounded. We need a medic <em> immediately </em>."</p><p> </p><p>He turned and glared daggers at the guard, "By the Triarchs, she's an old woman! What kind of a soldier are you? You could've killed her!"</p><p> </p><p>“All schow you old…!” Carmody moaned, her words garbled with blood.</p><p> </p><p>"She could've seriously wounded you, sir! It was self-defense!" The soldier replied, as if he needed no further explanation, and looked to the Advocate for help.</p><p> </p><p>"She could've <em> died </em>!" Sharif snapped.</p><p> </p><p>Sharif glared at the Advocate, who had no intention of getting between him and her trooper, "he beat a Compact citizen, an old woman, and tried to shoot her. I want him out of here."</p><p> </p><p>The Advocate gestured for the other two to take the fourth into custody; she activated her commlink, "correction, we need a medic with experience in treating client races down here immediately."</p><p> </p><p>Sharif spoke to the human, "Mrs. Carmody, medics are on the way. Just stay calm and keep pressure on the wound."</p><p> </p><p>She spat on him, and he recoiled in disgust. The woman continued groping for something. Her eyes widened and the arm grew more frantic.</p><p> </p><p>Sharif wiped the blood and saliva off himself as best he could, and noted something on the floor by her feet. A photo. He knelt and picked it up. It was like the size of a Post-It note in his hands. A young Broken woman looked back at him. Sharif knelt back down to hand it to her.</p><p> </p><p>Carmody's eyes went even wider, and she snatched it back.</p><p> </p><p>"Llofrudd," She ground out. Her tongue moved visibly, "Mae fy merch wedi marw o'ch herwydd chi."</p><p> </p><p>Sharif grimaced, then pushed a control on his earpiece again. It ran the translation back through after a delay. His eyes went wide. "Mrs. Carmody, I had no idea. I’m so sorry."</p><p> </p><p>“Vy hood you be?” she snarled. More blood poured onto her uniform, and she spat some onto the deck. “Ear all ‘skung to you.”</p><p> </p><p>It took him a moment to realize what she’d said. “Scum? No, we don’t…!”</p><p> </p><p>He trailed off as the janissary was removed from the cell. Sharif shook his head, “You’re not scum, you shouldn’t talk about yourself like that.”</p><p> </p><p>Carmody gagged and choked. She spat blood onto the floor. “Go to hell.”</p><p> </p><p>Sharif frowned, still in confusion. “Mrs. Carmody, nobody’s going to hurt you. It’s alright, just stay calm.”</p><p> </p><p>She coughed again, “<em> Go to hell </em>.”</p><p> </p><p>Sharif tilted his head. This woman should’ve been old enough to live on Rally. She had a family. She should’ve known the Compact’s love. Even with The Patron’s brainwashing, she should’ve known at the very least how to be polite.</p><p> </p><p>A janissary brought a medical kit in. Sharif opened it and grabbed some gauze. With some hesitation, he handed it to Carmody. He didn’t know if any of the more advanced gear would help her. He knew little about human biology beyond "keep the red stuff inside". The old woman mopped up a bunch of the blood on her face. She held the bloodstained gauze for a moment, and for a moment he thought she would throw it at him.</p><p> </p><p>She coughed again and made a terrible sound in her throat. A hunk of blood and mucus fell to the deck.</p><p> </p><p>The Advocate moved closer, “Sir, please stand back. The medics can handle her. With all due respect, perhaps it would be left if you were to leave and not disturb her further.”</p><p> </p><p>Sharif shook his head. He dabbed idly at the blood on his uniform. “I don’t think she’s a danger, Advocate.”</p><p> </p><p>He looked at Carmody, “...are you, Mrs. Carmody?”</p><p> </p><p>She scooched back to lean against the table. After a moment, she hung her head. She spat out more blood.</p><p> </p><p>“Sir, maybe I should call a Confessor. I’m sure they’d be much more equipped to handle this.” The Advocate pressed.</p><p> </p><p>“You may do so, but I’m not leaving until I’m sure she’s taken care of,” Sharif replied, “She’s scared, confused, and needs to be shown kindness.”</p><p> </p><p>He stood up and glowered at the janissary, “Unless you can assure me that the rest of your soldiers will not be like the Convert, I <em> must </em> stay until the Confessor arrives.”</p><p> </p><p>“Sir, she could hurt you again. I don’t want to risk being held accountable for something I could have prevented.”</p><p> </p><p>Sharif’s gaze narrowed further, “You and your section are already on thin ice for causing such grievous wounds to a prisoner in our custody.”</p><p> </p><p>Carmody coughed up another splatter of blood. She kept doing that. How much did humans have?</p><p> </p><p>The Advocate paled, “Sir…”</p><p> </p><p>“I will be <em> fine </em>. This woman is fragile and defenseless, and must be protected.”</p><p> </p><p>Sharif turned back to look at her. The captain’s hands shook. She held her photo close to her.</p><p> </p><p>The column leader prime grimaced. He hoped they had the information on-hand to treat her wounds, and more importantly, repair her teeth.</p><p> </p><p>He knelt again, “Emotions run deep in races like yours, Mrs. Carmody. I won’t deny that or hold it against you. But emotions shouldn’t cloud logic. Why did you hit me? I mean you no harm.”</p><p> </p><p>Carmody slowly lifted her head and looked at him with utter disbelief.</p><p> </p><p>“No harm? You...”</p><p> </p><p>Her eyes glistened. She looked to the side for a moment as if to look for a hidden camera on a situational comedy. Sharif was perplexed.</p><p> </p><p>“No harm?” she repeated quietly.</p><p> </p><p>“Yes. I didn’t mean any harm. That janissary was out of line, but he thought he was protecting me. I only wanted to talk to you. I wasn’t going to hurt you.”</p><p> </p><p>“No harm?” she repeated in a smaller voice.</p><p> </p><p>“Why did you hit me? Humans are a shining example to other client races. Others aspire to your level. You <em> know </em> this sort of non-compliant behavior is wrong. We can’t let our emotions override our logic. Why did you hit me? What were you feeling?”</p><p> </p><p>“No...harm?” Carmody repeated, “Seriously?” Her pitch rose. She started breathing faster. Her hands were shaking again.</p><p> </p><p>“I’m alright, you didn’t hurt anything, I’m concerned for you.”</p><p> </p><p>“No harm,” she repeated a fifth time, the quietest she had spoken.</p><p> </p><p>“Yes, Mrs. Carmody. I meant no harm.”</p><p> </p><p>“<em> You’re all about harm! </em> ” she shouted, “ <em> The Commies  </em> exist  <em> to harm! </em>”</p><p> </p><p>Sharif flinched back. Carmody spat blood onto the floor and glared at him with the most intense hatred he’d ever seen.</p><p> </p><p>“<em> You murdered my daughter! You killed everyone! Damn it all, you destroyed Earth </em>!”</p><p>She leaned forward onto her haunches, still holding the gauze to her mouth, and stood up. Even crouched, he wasn’t that smaller than she was. But her fury was five times her small stature.</p><p> </p><p>Carmody held out the photo, “<em> You sons of bitches killed every last one of us you could! You killed everyone! You motherfuckers killed everyone! </em>”</p><p> </p><p>Sharif shot to his feet and held out a hand to stop the Advocate. He wasn’t frightened, but he was <em> extremely </em> shocked and confused.</p><p> </p><p>Carmody screamed, “My daughter is dead! You killed her! <em> You people killed her, my friends, my family-- you killed damn near everyone we loved! </em>”</p><p> </p><p>Sharif’s sputters did nothing to stop her. “You destroyed Earth. You destroyed the colonies. You destroyed our ships, our colonies, our cities, our lives, you killed us all! You killed my <em> daughter! </em>”</p><p> </p><p>The column leader prime took a step back, “Mrs. Carmody--”</p><p> </p><p>“<em> You killed Dani! You killed her! You sons of bitches destroyed everything! Everything! You killed Dani! </em>”</p><p> </p><p>Her fury and grief-filled the compartment. Tears spilled from her eyes, and she waved the photo, “You killed Dani, <em> you son of a  </em> bitch <em> ! </em>”</p><p> </p><p>“Please--”</p><p> </p><p>“You killed her! You destroyed Earth, Mars, Alpha Centauri, Terra Nova, Tau Ceti, Epsilon Eridani...you killed everyone! You killed billions of people! You killed and killed and <em> killed </em> !  <em> You killed Dani! </em>”</p><p> </p><p>“I’m sorry!” Sharif said loudly, “I’m sorry for your loss, but you need--”</p><p> </p><p>She waved the photo again, “My daughter! Dani Carmody, HLV <em> St. James </em> , born 2760,  <em> died  </em>2792! Like everyone else! My daughter was at Sol, you son of a bitch! She went there before the attack, she wouldn’t listen! She said we couldn’t just lay down and die! She...she…!”</p><p> </p><p>Carmody choked down a bloody sob, “They were just a freighter, they went there so the military ships would have a chance to get through! They’d get blown apart before they could even fight back if they didn’t...if they didn’t stand in the way, <em> nobody </em> was getting through! They were bullet stoppers, but they went anyway! She wouldn’t listen, damn it…”</p><p> </p><p>She wiped away tears and blood with her sleeve, “She left to go and make sure we had a chance to survive! She wasn’t a soldier, she was...she was my kid, damn it all! And <em> you killed her </em>.”</p><p> </p><p>She coughed again. The column leader prime was completely silent.</p><p> </p><p>“You’re a bunch of murderers. You killed my daughter, and every last human being who ever tried to live!”</p><p>She sobbed again, then spat, “Murderers. What the <em> fuck </em>  did we ever do to you? What did we ever do to  <em> you </em> ?! We didn’t do anything to you! We just wanted to be left alone!  <em> What did we ever do to you </em>?”</p><p> </p><p>Sharif was speechless.</p><p> </p><p>The medics finally arrived, as did a Confessor several minutes later. Sharif walked out into the corridor. He waved off the Advocate and left the brig into the main hallway. He found the nearest bathroom.</p><p> </p><p>He washed his hands and tried to wipe some of the blood off. It was in his jacket and his hands. His ears still rang. For several minutes, he couldn’t think of anything, just those words repeating over and over in his head as he scrubbed his hands raw. He realized after a moment they were shaking.</p><p> </p><p>“<em> You killed them </em>”. Killed who? Earth didn’t exist. Earth was dead 2,000 years ago. It had been necessary. Carmody was from Rally. They all were.</p><p> </p><p>“<em> You killed Dani </em>”.</p><p> </p><p>He’d never been called a murderer before. He’d seen combat. He’d never seen the whites of their eyes, but he’d fired at enemy ships. He’d killed before. But he’d never been called a <em> murderer </em>. </p><p>There had to be something wrong with Carmody. She’d been with the Blue Avians, after all. He wondered what kind of brainwashing was going on. The woman was in distress, and obviously, they told her about the past, but it didn’t add up with what he thought.</p><p> </p><p>Who was Dani Carmody? Had she been killed in some incident, and her mother convinced she had died somewhere else? Was she someone they found in old records who had the same name and latched onto her as a surrogate? Was the elder Carmody senile?</p><p> </p><p>The damned spot wouldn’t come out of his sleeve. He might have to send the jacket to the ship’s dry cleaners.</p><p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0011"><h2>11. Mars Bleeds History</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>And Here my Troubles Began.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>The Confederate shuttle pilot sniffed her sleeve, winced, then shrugged and put her hands back on the controls. It was her cleanest flight suit, it would have to do. It had only been worn for two days. Laundry on a three-point-five kilometer-long starship wasn’t as much of a priority, and they had to make every bit of their equipment last. That meant the standard water-free laundry systems had to be used sparingly. At least she </span>
  <em>
    <span>had </span>
  </em>
  <span>clean underwear. With a glance at her partner, she didn’t know if her copilot could say the same.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She tapped her mike, “Bravo 22 to </span>
  <em>
    <span>Pious Transgression.</span>
  </em>
  <span> We’re initiating final approach.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Copy that, Bravo 22. We’re standing by.</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The winged shuttle did not respond to the former-Compact warship’s vectoring or automated control; their computers didn’t quite speak the same language. Once they got within a certain range of the Shadow Flotilla flagship, they’d had to manually guide themselves to the battleship’s primary hangar. Though not </span>
  <em>
    <span>into</span>
  </em>
  <span> it. Just get close.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The large bay stood a few thousand meters away. The pilot fired a burst from the RCS thrusters and moved the shuttle close enough to the battleship for its tractor beams to seize it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Capture confirmed. You’ve got a solid lock.” the pilot reported.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Confirmed. Solid grasp. We’re pulling you in.</span>
  </em>
  <span>” </span>
  <em>
    <span>Now </span>
  </em>
  <span>the automated system could take it. The hull creaked slightly, but the pilots hoped it was because of the worn-out shuttle.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The co-pilot chinned a control, and the shuttle’s small point defense guns unhoused themselves. They were designed for engaging fighters and ordnance, perhaps enemy ground forces. Not that they’d be of any use. But both pilots had served on carriers during the war. Being this close to a battleship without ship-killer munitions made them feel naked. And being pulled in gave them the creeps. The point-defense guns at least gave them some comfort.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The freshly-painted human shuttle flew through the hangar energy shields into the Shade Flotilla battleship’s shuttle bay. The former Compact vessel had a voluminous primary hangar to accommodate bulky craft. It shifted back and forth. Its thrusters whined loudly. The hangar traffic controller and the shuttle pilot spoke to one another as the crew cleared a landing space; the deck officer hadn’t cleared enough distance for it to settle down in. It was an honest mistake, but it didn’t do their relations any favors.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The shuttle finally settled down. Its engines fell silent, and a hatch opened. Shade deck hands stopped their work to watch. The insignia was strange, a bird of some kind, with several letters underneath. It looked like there were meant to be three, but there were now only two.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Armed with precious modern rifles custom-built for humans, and clad in custom-tailored armor in UECMC colors, a squad of Marines emerged from the shuttle’s hatch and took up defensive positions. They knelt at equal distance from the shuttle, forming a circle around the vehicle. Captain Mrowka stepped down the gangway, with a vest and a pistol at her hip. She wore a peaked naval cap for at least </span>
  <em>
    <span>some</span>
  </em>
  <span> semblance of formality.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Before the party was a formation of soldiers who looked an </span>
  <em>
    <span>awful</span>
  </em>
  <span> lot like Janissaries. They were a mix of Tribunes and client races Mrowka didn’t identify. They protected a figure in an odd sort of uniform. It wasn’t Compact, it was a purple outfit that matched the stripes on the hull. She had her arms crossed, and an air of authority about her.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Captain Mrowka moved forward, then halted at the center of the ring of Marines, and crossed her arms in reflection. The Tribune would have to come to her. With flickered glances to either side, the female stepped forward. “You are the leader of the Blue Avians?” she called out. The larger being’s voice echoed in the voluminous hangar.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Second in command. Captain Milena Mrowka, commander of the UECNS </span>
  <em>
    <span>Vanguard</span>
  </em>
  <span>. You’re the Shade Flotilla’s boss?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Kaitet Sezod Tadok.” The Tribune said, “The Shade Flotilla opens its arms to you and we welcome your material support. We will provide any aid we can to you and your charges.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Mrowka nodded, “The Blue Doves accept your offer, and thank you for your kindness. We’ve traveled a long way.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Well, then I hope we can accommodate you,” Kaitet said, “I heard you have one of our agents in custody.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“That’s right. We only captured him because we couldn’t risk him going to ground and losing our only link to your group. We can’t risk turning him over right now, but rest assured, he will be released eventually. We </span>
  <em>
    <span>did</span>
  </em>
  <span> seize his ship as our property though. I’m afraid that is unconditional.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Kaitet frowned. Unexpectedly she said, “That’s not too big a deal. I trust it wasn’t a very expensive ship?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“It </span>
  <em>
    <span>is</span>
  </em>
  <span> a smuggler's vessel.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The female Tribune shrugged, “We’ve got plenty of agents, and plenty of small ships. So long as this agent...I’m sorry, I don’t recall his name, is returned eventually, I suppose it’s alright. Very well. Captain Mrowka,” her voice formed the name strangely, “Shall we begin negotiations somewhere else? I’d rather not wait around for a potential hull breach.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Unless I can bring an escort, I’m not going anywhere,” Mrowka replied evenly. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Kaitet nodded, “Of course. However, it will be rather cramped with them.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“We’ve been through much worse, ma’am.” She turned her head to the Marine sergeant beside her. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The man nodded, “Corporal Foster!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>One Marine stood up, then gestured to her subordinates. Three more stood and formed a square around the captain. Mrowka gestured to Kaitet, and the pirate leader nodded in response. As they walked past the Shade guards, the Tribune Advocate leading them made an “I’m watching you” gesture at Foster. Much to his frustration, she didn’t even look at him.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The corridors were a bit of a headache. After years spent aboard her ship, Mrowka found it difficult to adjust to another, let alone an alien vessel. These halls were built to Compact Standard, only slightly larger and slightly wider. It was just slightly off enough to give her a headache. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>An alien vessel…</span>
  </em>
  <span> Mrowka never thought she’d end up on a Compact battleship like this. She always thought it would be for a USS </span>
  <em>
    <span>Missouri</span>
  </em>
  <span> style event or her execution.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>As the captain passed many Shade personnel of various races, Mrowka realized this was the first time she’d left her ship. She hadn’t left her ship in more than 2,000 years. Not since Tau Ceti. Mrowka wondered if this was the first bit of air she’d breathed that wasn’t 2,000 years old. </span>
  <em>
    <span>No, we’ve had oxygen resupplies. This is just the first Commie-owned air I’ve breathed.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Funny. It didn’t taste like arrogance. But it didn’t matter what paint they threw on their equipment, or the air canisters, the water tanks, or the hydroponics. It was still stamped with “</span>
  <em>
    <span>Made in the Compact of Species</span>
  </em>
  <span>” logos. The gear around them was descended from the same arms and armor that killed her friends and shot out three ships from under her. And these rebels still had “Compact” stamped on their brains. If they knew what the fleet really wanted, the enemy of their enemy would swap. Hell, if they didn’t kill them, If they knew what </span>
  <em>
    <span>Vanguard</span>
  </em>
  <span> represented, the Shades could probably buy their way to freedom by turning them over.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span> Mrowka’s hard expression didn’t change. She took off her hat for a moment and wiped some sweat from her forehead with her sleeve. The air was thicker than she was used to, yet gave her an energy boost; there must’ve been a higher percentage of oxygen in the air. And it was hotter. The gravity was also a bit higher than </span>
  <em>
    <span>Vanguard’s</span>
  </em>
  <span> standard 1 G. They passed crew from various Compact species, mostly client races with a few Tribunes. One client who looked like an amphibian was at work on wiring behind a wall panel. They twisted something hard with a wrench, then stopped to lean against the wall for a moment and take a few deep breaths.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Mrowka scowled at the floor. Intel during the war suggested that they calibrated life support to be “equal for all races”, but Ruling Species were more equal than others. The puppy escorts following them didn’t seem to have any trouble moving around in their bulky armor under the higher gravity and atmosphere. She vividly recalled a report from some asteroid colonists rescued from Compact custody, one of whom reported a heart attack because the atmosphere was too much. The man had had a heart condition and lived on an asteroid with bad grav plating, but that didn’t say much for Commie hospitality. Mrowka considered herself lucky she’d grown up in Martian habitats with artificial gravity, not to mention some genetic tweaking.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Mrowka scowled again. She could only imagine what they’d done to the Rally colonists from low-gravity worlds. They probably killed them all to simplify things and get rid of any evidence that humans had ever had any genetic engineering capability...no, of course, they’d just take credit for it. They’d take credit for the work of </span>
  <em>
    <span>her</span>
  </em>
  <span> ancestors. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The captain shook her head. She had to keep her mind on task. She could dream about carving their bones into flutes later. They were in a bit of a mess here. Things were almost back to “normal”, and that wasn’t good. They were on the wrong end of the tech tree with some assholes who thought they were superior.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The party reached the doors to another compartment. The inside was a standard conference room, for Tribunes at least. Mrowka found herself on the wrong end of things, and distinctly out of her element. The chairs and table were just a bit too big, “standardized” with more “equality” of course. The smuggler had broken one of her conference chairs. These would struggle to sag under her weight. Mrowka grimaced at the shoe being on the other foot. She wasn’t an ambassador, she was a battlewagon commander. Why the hell was she here? </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Ouch, that’s a loaded question</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Kaitet walked around the table and took a seat. It brought her almost down to eye level with the standing captain, who remained so with her arms crossed.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Ah...Group Leader Mrowka, won’t you take a seat?” the female asked.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“It’s ‘Captain’. And I like to stand.” the Martian said evenly. The height difference was less obvious now, but Mrowka was aware she was the shortest in the room. Not that that ever stopped her.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Kaitet frowned, “Ah...well then, shall we start? We’re willing to accommodate your people within reason. We can provide supplies including ammunition, food, water, fuel, and equipment.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>
  <span>They spoke for a while, hashing out details of an agreement, or at least enough formality that a dedicated negotiating team could take over. This was just a formality, a way between pirate groups to size each other up, and lay the groundwork for a working relationship. And, of course, to check for traps.  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>So far, everything seemed to be in the UEC's favor. The Shades were willing to give them supplies, a place to stay, and contact with the Principality in return for sums of money and certain goods. The humans had a lot of the Compact gear that had been abandoned in old Earth space, some of which they couldn't use, and couldn't be made outside the Compact in the Shades' limited facilities. It would all be worth it if it meant safety for the human race.</span>
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Once they'd finished the arrangements and were about to leave though, Kaitet’s PDA chirped. She turned away and took a few steps, then tapped her earpiece. She hissed, “I’m </span>
  <em>
    <span>getting</span>
  </em>
  <span> to it, just calm down, I’ll tell…” Her annoyance shifted, “What? Why?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She sighed, “No, I can’t risk losing this! You said…”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>With a curse, Kaitet shook her head, “Alright. Fine. Just a few minutes.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Kaitet turned back to Mrowka’s glare. The Marines had tensed up a bit. The Tribune rubbed the bridge of her nose, “Column Leader Prime Nanhar wishes to speak with you.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Mrowka's entire demeanor shifted from professional to anger. "And what... </span>
  <em>
    <span>possible </span>
  </em>
  <span>reason would I have for meeting one of his kind?"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Kaitet shrugged, “I don't know, he's…" Kaitet sighed, then leaned across the table, “Look, Captain, a bit of advice? Whatever Nanhar says, just go with it. My cousin...he’s, shall we say...a true believer.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She glanced around, “I don’t know how many believe everything he says. Most of us aren’t in his camp. I’m not sure I believe it myself. All of us only agree on one thing; the Triarchs need to go down. As to why…? Well, that’s where we don’t agree.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“So who’s all this lot then?” Mrowka asked, and gestured around.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Kaitet grimaced, “Criminals, adventurers, and a whole mess of political dissidents. Some of them are from low-income systems and others from high-income ones. Despite what Nanhar says, they didn’t quite join because they followed his cause, but because he and I had the equipment and the organization needed to begin this operation. All we can agree on is this current administration has to go down.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“And why’s that?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“All sorts of reasons. We’ve got every shade of political dissident here. Some of these folks are from poor systems; I know one soul who joined to pay for his grandsire’s cancer treatment. Their homes are in ruins, but you know how system governors are…”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Mrowka nodded, “Uh-huh.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Kaitet made a hand gesture, “You see what I mean,” she shook her head, “A bunch of the rich kids are true believers too. Don’t listen to some of the signals coming from the cruiser </span>
  <em>
    <span>Respectful Assertion</span>
  </em>
  <span>, that’ll drive you mad. We’ve got all sorts of factions in this fleet with a problem with the Triarchs. I mean, I’m sure you can guess. Take every ‘bad’ political position you knew growing up and apply it. I mean, I’m pretty sure there’s </span>
  <em>
    <span>somebody</span>
  </em>
  <span> in our little group who knows about the kind of nonsense </span>
  <em>
    <span>you</span>
  </em>
  <span> dealt with on Rally.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Sure,” Mrowka nodded, then frowned, “So what’s someone like </span>
  <em>
    <span>you</span>
  </em>
  <span> doing out here? I mean, cousin of some big-shot </span>
  <em>
    <span>admiral</span>
  </em>
  <span>,” she used the human word, “what’s so bad about the inner worlds?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Kaitet’s gaze darkened. But it wasn’t directed at the captain. She took a breath and looked to the side. Her eyes flickered to Mrowka’s hat and her collar. “What does that insignia mean?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Mrowka’s expression darkened further, “Why do you ask?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Kaitet gestured to her hat, “That bird. Is that one of those avians? And that bird on your collar, what do they mean?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Mrowka’s hand slowly moved to her collar, “Yeah. It’s one of the avians. And these are my captain’s insignia.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Captain. Not a group leader?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I earned these birds,” Mrowka said through gritted teeth, “And they mean </span>
  <em>
    <span>captain</span>
  </em>
  <span>.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Kaitet nodded with an almost conspiratorial grin. Her face lit up. So much so that Mrowka almost forgot she was a dog. “I’ve never heard of a human group leader, but I’m going to guess you didn’t earn it in Space Force service. Well, me neither. I got here through hard work after I got the hell out.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, but I’m just wondering </span>
  <em>
    <span>why </span>
  </em>
  <span>you got out here.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The Tribune frowned, “Let’s just say the Triarchs and I differ on some things.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>
  <span>After a few minutes, the door opened again. In stepped two Tribunes. One with the uniform of a Compact column leader prime. Column Leader Prime Nanhar. The other Tribune, who looked about a third Nanhar’s age, was in civilian clothing and stood behind him. Nanhar stood with his hands clasped behind his back, and an arrogant smirk his fellows had worn so many centuries ago. He looked around at the human Marines and took in Captain Mrowka.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Hello!” he said.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Kaitet shot to her feet, “Nanhar, be careful.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The leader(or at least public face) of the Shade flotilla looked at her, and hissed, “Kaitet, I just said hello!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’m just </span>
  <em>
    <span>reminding you</span>
  </em>
  <span>…”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The civilian Tribune muttered something, and Nanhar shook his head. He made a dismissive gesture, and spoke more loudly, “So, you’re the Broken representative the Avians sent us! Good to meet you, Ms…?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Captain</span>
  </em>
  <span> Mrowka, second in command of the Blue Doves, and a human being,” Mrowka growled. She pointedly did not attempt any sort of gesture like a handshake. "What do you want? I thought we were done with negotiations. I need to get back to my ship."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Nanhar raised an eyebrow, then shrugged, “Ms. Mrowka, we don’t get many Broken out here. What is your fleet doing here?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Captain</span>
  </em>
  <span> Mrowka. Read the notes and you’d know,” Mrowka growled.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You aren’t one for small talk, are you? Very well then.” The Tribune took Kaitet’s seat. He made sure to keep his distance, but the arrogance, the way he stood...</span>
  <em>
    <span>this</span>
  </em>
  <span> was a Tribune. Not that smuggler, not those blue-collar POWs. This was the sort of man she'd fought for ten years. He gave that smug grin frequently mistaken for confidence, "You’re a very interesting Broken. Normally I wouldn’t be interested, but something gave me pause. Tell me, where did you get your ships?"</span>
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>"Mayday, mayday, mayday! Raiders, raiders, raiders!"</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Mrowka memories came and went, then her eyes narrowed. "What's it to you?"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The Tribune raised an eyebrow, "it's just a question. It would be polite to answer."</span>
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>"Where the hell are they coming from?! They're all over the place! Mayday, mayday, mayday! Raiders, raiders, raiders!"</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Why is it any of your business?"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The Tribune leaned back in his chair, "you'd be surprised how relevant information like this is, especially when it comes to client races.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Mrowka noted Kaitet rubbed her eyes and groaned quietly. It was a surprisingly human moment. She looked like somebody’s kindergarten teacher who’d been working for twelve hours. The captain crossed her arms, “And we have sensitive information of our own. We have a civilian population in desperate need of assistance, and we’d like to begin proper negotiations and supply trade immediately.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>The G's of the high burn was cut by inertial dampers, but there was a psychological feeling of speed as they dove toward the enemy. It was the </span>
  </em>
  <span>Thunder Child</span>
  <em>
    <span>, steaming headlong, coming to the rescue of the threatened shipping.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“All in good time. You caused quite a stir when your force entered the system, Ms. Mrowka.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“It’s ‘captain’,” Mrowka said coldly.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Nanhar nodded, “Pardon me, Captain Mrowka. You caused quite a stir.” The column leader paused, “I’ve never seen your ships before. Well, not in person. We weren’t even able to identify them until we went into historical records.” He looked at her, “Do you know where they come from?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“A shipyard.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Before the officers could go any further, the civilian walked forward quickly, and pointed at Mrowka’s chest, “Why are you wearing that?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Nanhar fell silent. “Nephew…”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Mrowka raised an eyebrow, “Excuse me?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“That uniform. That hat. Why are you wearing them?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Nephew…!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Why are you wearing </span>
  <em>
    <span>your</span>
  </em>
  <span> uniforms?” Mrowka asked calmly, “What’s the big deal?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Nephew!” Nanhar snapped.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Uncle, we don’t know anything about them!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“It’s just a uniform, what’s the big deal?” Mrowka asked.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The Tribune turned to her, and sputtered, “Big deal? Do you mean to tell me you have no idea what any of that insignia means? What does that </span>
  <em>
    <span>blue</span>
  </em>
  <span> mean?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Mrowka smirked, “It’s my color.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I thought that would’ve been red, ma’am,” Corporal Foster commented.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Mrowka spared a smile at her, “Nah, I lived by the seaside growing up.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Kaitet stifled a snort. Her fellows looked confused. The civilian pointed at Mrowka’s collar, “Don’t you know what that means?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“It means I’m a captain, son, what’s it to you?” Mrowka asked.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“But..you’re not!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Juretti…” Kaitet said softly, and grabbed his arm, “Calm down, you’re going to--”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“No, Kai, let him finish,” Mrowka said, “Go on, son, what were you trying to say?” While his uncle was certainly an asshole, this kid was probably just ignorant.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He fidgeted a bit, “Uh...well…”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“He didn’t know his place, Captain--” Kaitet started again.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“She’s not a captain!” Juretti burst out, “There aren’t any more!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Kaitet rubbed her nose. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What’s that supposed to mean?” Mrowka asked icily.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Kaitet wisely took a step back and pulled Juretti with her. Nanhar only leaned forward, “It means you’re wearing what some might refer to as ‘costume play’, </span>
  <em>
    <span>Ms.</span>
  </em>
  <span> Mrowka.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“It’s </span>
  <em>
    <span>captain</span>
  </em>
  <span>. And I don’t like what you’re insinuating.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“It may be hard for a Broken to understand, but it’s just a fact,” Nanhar said easily. He seemed to smile at her rage.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“No Broken has ever become a group leader prime, and that uniform belongs to a dead nation! Why are you wearing it?” Juretti demanded.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He shrugged off Kaitet’s arm, and walked forward, “That hat belongs to the United </span>
  <em>
    <span>Earth</span>
  </em>
  <span> Navy, and that uniform belongs to the Earth Battle Fleet! They’re all gone, why are you wearing it?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Foster and her fellows shifted. Mrowka narrowed her gaze.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What in the world is with you people?” the civilian demanded. He gestured at the Marines, “That’s old Confederacy Marine Corps insignia! But you couldn’t get the weapons or armor, I see. Oh! And your ships! Where did you get your ships?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Juretti!” Nanhar snapped.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Uncle! Isn’t it strange that they have 2,000-year-old starships in perfect working order? How is this happening? Why are they in those uniforms?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Who knows what goes on in a Broken’s head? They’re clients! There’s a school of etiquette to talk to them--!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Which you clearly didn’t attend,” Kaitet groaned, “Would the </span>
  <em>
    <span>both</span>
  </em>
  <span> of you be silent so we can hold a conversation without anyone getting upset?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Is </span>
  </em>
  <span>there a point to this beyond criticizing our fashion choices?” Mrowka asked.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“That’s an </span>
  <em>
    <span>Ifrit</span>
  </em>
  <span>-class battleship!” Juretti said loudly, “I thought those were all destroyed!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Well, that’s obviously not the case,” Mrowka said, “Think </span>
  <em>
    <span>real</span>
  </em>
  <span> carefully about what you say next. That’s my ship you’re talking about. If you’ve got a point to make, make it.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Oh really? What’s its name?” Juretti demanded.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“UECNS </span>
  <em>
    <span>Vanguard</span>
  </em>
  <span>.” Mrowka shook her head, and forced her anger, hate, and grief down into the mental cement barrier in her brain, “What’s the point of all this? Kai is this--”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“It’s Kaitet.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Katey, is this all there is? I have a sick ship I need to deal with.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Nanhar scratched his head, “Pardon my nephew, Mrowka. Your ships created quite a stir.” He put his hands together, “Tell me, do you know why we rebelled against the Compact?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Mrowka narrowed her gaze. She shrugged, and finally took a seat. The Shade leaders exchanged glances. “That’s what we want to know. What made you people think you could take on the Compact? Bigger nations than you have tried. I’m surprised you haven’t been squashed already. Well, I’m guessing the </span>
  <em>
    <span>official</span>
  </em>
  <span> reason is just a load of bull. You rounded up a bunch of political dissidents who disagree but agree the Triarchs need to die. You just had the organization and supplies they needed.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Excuse me?” Nanhar asked.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Mrowka paused, “You know, I don’t know what the official position is. I have no clue. Your contact told us a pretty tall tale. He said...” she paused again, and chuckled, “...He said you have proof that the Triarchs lied and have been experimenting on AI.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The others exchanged looks again.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Mrowka put up her feet, “Pretty odd, but seriously, what kind of sense does that make? And how’d you get all these people to believe you? Pretty-far fetched if you ask me.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She glanced at Kaitet, “Katey, you said most of these guys joined up for the money, the means, and leadership, right?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Excuse me…” Nanhar growled.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“It’s Kaitet,” Kaitet muttered, then nodded, with a sidelong glance at her cousin. “This is why most of us joined. And yes, most of us are here just for the supplies and organization. But that’s not why </span>
  <em>
    <span>some</span>
  </em>
  <span> people started. Understandably, you don’t believe it. Why would you? It’ll sound like ‘government is run by gaseous life forms’ kind of stuff.” She rolled her eyes as Nanhar glared at her.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Mrowka nodded, “Why are you people </span>
  <em>
    <span>really</span>
  </em>
  <span> out here? Bigger nations than you have tried to survive, and they got squashed. It took time, but they got there. All you’ve got is a small task force and a few asteroid colonies. You probably don’t even have a million troops. And this operation failed. Why is anyone even following you anymore?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Broken, is this how you normally speak to your betters?” Nanhar asked.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Mrowka fixed him with a cold gaze, “I don’t </span>
  <em>
    <span>have</span>
  </em>
  <span> any ‘betters’.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Kaitet spoke quickly, “We’ve got a lot of people who have nowhere else to go, and the rest are holding together through sheer force of charisma and guns. This is why we’re talking to privateers such as your group.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Nanhar nodded, “However, Broken, there’s something unusual about your group. I want to know where you came from. Why are there so many people aboard your ships? And why such old and leaky ones?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Why are they </span>
  <em>
    <span>human</span>
  </em>
  <span> ships?” Juretti demanded.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Nephew, quiet!” Nanhar hissed.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Mrowka groaned, “Why is it so important to you? We found them in deep space, big deal.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Perfectly intact? And those uniforms...do you know what this means?” Juretti barked, with a mild voice crack.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Would you mind explaining yourselves? I’m getting </span>
  <em>
    <span>real</span>
  </em>
  <span> tired of this crap.” Mrowka growled, looking around.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Watch your language, Broken,” Nanhar said.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Mrowka glared at him with a hint of amusement, “We’re pirates, aren’t we? Don’t tell me you’ve never heard a mild expletive.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Nanhar’s mouth clenched, “Ms. Mrowka, a </span>
  <em>
    <span>good</span>
  </em>
  <span> Broken minds her manners.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Mrowka’s jaw tightened, “I’m not a good one. And I’m </span>
  <em>
    <span>certainly</span>
  </em>
  <span> not ‘Broken’.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Nanhar gestured to the Marines, “Think about the poor example you’re setting for your people. This isn’t very professional of you.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Mrowka didn’t break her gaze, “What’s professional of me is none of your business, but I’d just like to point out that sailors and Marines swear at about the same rate. And they’re enlisted. They can swear better than I can.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“That’s not a positive aspect. That’s shameful," growled the Shade officer.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Why do you care? Mind your own business, Mr. Nanhar.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“It’s Column Leader Prime Nanhar, Ms. Mrowka, and you’d do well to remember that.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“And </span>
  <em>
    <span>you’d</span>
  </em>
  <span> do well to remember </span>
  <em>
    <span>my</span>
  </em>
  <span> title.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You’re not a captain,” Nanhar said dismissively, “It doesn’t matter what storybook you pick a uniform out of. Even one as offensive as </span>
  <em>
    <span>that</span>
  </em>
  <span>.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Mrowka scowled, “</span>
  <em>
    <span>Your</span>
  </em>
  <span> uniform offends me. It doesn’t matter what color you paint it, that Commie uniform is still drenched in blood.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Nanhar scoffed, “</span>
  <em>
    <span>My </span>
  </em>
  <span>uniform? What about yours? How much blood is on </span>
  <em>
    <span>yours</span>
  </em>
  <span>?” He laughed, “You don’t even know, do you? You just picked that out of some databank on some ancient ship, right?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Nanhar, be </span>
  <em>
    <span>quiet</span>
  </em>
  <span>!” Kaitet hissed.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“She needs to know her place!” Nanhar barked.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“And </span>
  <em>
    <span>he</span>
  </em>
  <span> needs to shut his damn mouth before someone hits it,” Mrowka retorted.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Nanhar was taken aback, then snarled, “Do you want to know </span>
  <em>
    <span>why</span>
  </em>
  <span> you Broken need to behave? Do you know </span>
  <em>
    <span>why</span>
  </em>
  <span> your people need so much care?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Because you’re a bunch of fascist tin-pot dictators who want to push around anyone smaller than you,” Mrowka said. Her eyes burned with fire. She was </span>
  <em>
    <span>angry</span>
  </em>
  <span>. She was </span>
  <em>
    <span>furious</span>
  </em>
  <span>. She remembered every hail they’d ever gotten, every message, every warning, every last murderous figure who stood there in that uniform telling her why Earth must fall for the good of all. They were all she could ever see whenever Nanhar spoke. And where she saw them, she saw an ancient jet-black uniform and a red armband.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Nanhar’s eyes widened, “You arrogant little </span>
  <em>
    <span>Broken</span>
  </em>
  <span>! I’ll tell you why you should listen, it’s why you’re broken, </span>
  <em>
    <span>Broken</span>
  </em>
  <span>!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Corporal Foster, if he calls me Broken again--!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Kaitet grew alarmed as Foster checked her weapon, and stepped forward, “Nanhar, for the love of the gods, will you </span>
  <em>
    <span>shut up</span>
  </em>
  <span>?!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Nanhar looked surprised at her, “You-- you can’t be taking--”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She grabbed him by the neck and hissed as quietly as she could in his ear, “</span>
  <em>
    <span>For the hundredth time, I’m the better negotiator here! You may be one of the gods to the troops, but to me, you’re still my arrogant cousin who doesn’t know when to stop talking! So shut up so I can fix this</span>
  </em>
  <span>!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She released him, and looked at Mrowka, “I’m sorry for him, Captain--”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Mrowka’s eyes flicked up to her, “Katey, let him speak. I want to know what he has to say.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Captain, now that formalities are out of the way, maybe you can send over--”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I want to know what </span>
  <em>
    <span>he</span>
  </em>
  <span> thinks justifies...what they’ve done to us,” Mrowka growled.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Nanhar smiled without humor, “Are you sure you can take it little one?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span> “I want to know why you’re so interested in our ships, and why you’re so invested in us staying under your boot.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Kaitet put up her hands, “Both of you, stop! This won’t help anything!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Kaitet, if she wants to know…” the civilian spoke up, but Kaitet put up a hand. He fell silent.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Mrowka glared at Nanhar, “Why is your nephew here? What the hell is going on in this place? Why are you so obsessed with us?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Nanhar put his hands together, and smirked, “Tell me little one, what do you know about The Cataclysm?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Mrowka clenched a fist, then hesitated. “Excuse me, I’m forty years old. I’m a spacer, not a child."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Nanhar raised an eyebrow, “You aren’t normal Broken, are you?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“We’re </span>
  <em>
    <span>not</span>
  </em>
  <span> Broken. And we know a hell of a lot more than you think we do. The Cataclysm’s bullshit.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Juretti looked at her with shock. Even Kaitet seemed surprised. Nanhar frowned. Juretti scratched his head, “Then...Ms. Mrowka, what do you think happened instead?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I </span>
  <em>
    <span>know</span>
  </em>
  <span> what happened. What in the hell does this have to do with </span>
  <em>
    <span>anything</span>
  </em>
  <span>? It’s ancient history.” That last sentence hurt.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Nanhar smirked. “Ah...so you know the truth?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Of course I do.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Do...do you know about the </span>
  <em>
    <span>Bringer of Light</span>
  </em>
  <span>?” Kaitet asked. She took the implications more seriously it seemed. Nanhar was just being sarcastic in his inquiry.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yes,” Mrowka growled. The others were shocked. But not as shocked as she'd expected. She'd have thought humans knowing about their past would be bigger news. Though considering their reaction to the uniforms and equipment, maybe they’d just gotten over their initial shock and she was confirming their assumptions.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Nanhar knitted his hands together, “Are you sure about that?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yes, I’m sure. The Cataclysm is a lie.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Oh…” Juretti blinked, then frowned. Realization dawned, “Oh! Are you from one of the core worlds?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Of course!” Mrowka snapped. A half-truth was better than a lie.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Juretti nodded rapidly, “That explains how you found out! They don’t like to talk about...well, you know what-- around Rally, while elsewhere it’s just a historical footnote, but they </span>
  <em>
    <span>do</span>
  </em>
  <span> teach it. Were you adopted by a ruling species?"</span>
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>An enemy ship was down, but </span>
  </em>
  <span>Thunder Child </span>
  <em>
    <span>was badly wounded. A single strike to their port side had slid through their shields, knocked out numerous weapon systems, and damaged their engines. But they were still mobile, and still in the fight. “Give me ramming speed! All hands abandon ship!”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Mrowka tamped down the vengeful memories. She nodded slowly. </span>
  <em>
    <span>That explains it. It's like the Envoy Program, but for humans.</span>
  </em>
  <span> “Of course. How else would I know?"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Kaitet rubbed her face, “Well then. There’s a bit more than that that they hid. That AI story…”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“The bullshit one?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“It is </span>
  <em>
    <span>not</span>
  </em>
  <span> bovine excrement, </span>
  <em>
    <span>Ms.</span>
  </em>
  <span> Mrowka,” Nanhar hissed, “And is </span>
  <em>
    <span>extremely</span>
  </em>
  <span> relevant.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He gestured at his nephew, “This man is why we’re out here. And in a way, </span>
  <em>
    <span>you’re</span>
  </em>
  <span> why we’re out here.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Mrowka nodded calmly, then looked at Kaitet, “So, Kai...how’re you related to these guys? I hope not by blood.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Kaitet snorted with laughter.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Juretti scratched his head again, “Uh...Ms. Mrowka, I’m guessing you know about our discovery of Compact AI experimentation, right?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Are you saying it’s real? Because I find it </span>
  <em>
    <span>real</span>
  </em>
  <span> hard to believe.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Juretti took a seat, “It </span>
  <em>
    <span>is</span>
  </em>
  <span> real. For the last 2,000 years, the Triarchs have been conducting illegal, lethal, immoral, unethical, and </span>
  <em>
    <span>heretical</span>
  </em>
  <span> experiments on Artificial Intelligences. They have failed numerous times, and killed tens of thousands each time.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Mrowka nodded as if she thought the Compact regarded that as a big death toll. “So what made you think it was true? If I know the CIS, they’ve erased any records of that. How could anyone find out about this?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Juretti smiled nervously, “They don’t get everything. Believe it or not, this was all because of a term paper.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Mrowka blinked, “Really.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“It all started with one of our ancestors. I was writing a term paper on the destruction of the </span>
  <em>
    <span>Bringer of Light</span>
  </em>
  <span>. We had an ancestor who fought in the following Battle of Sol, and he was what I chose as my focus. Our ancestor was a Column Leader who led the second probe on the human defenses on Sol Four.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Mrowka felt the gaze of one of the Marines behind her.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Juretti grimaced, “Our nameless ancestor was returned to us in a coffin. He was posthumously stripped of all names for incompetence in battle. He lost six capital ships, and was killed himself when shrapnel entered the bridge.” Nanhar face tightened. Juretti looked at him, then continued, “That was the tale they told our family for generations. The Nameless was known for being a glory hound, and so we didn’t question it. But when I started researching this paper…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He scratched his head yet again, “I found something. I was digging through old records in the back of the university, through some data modules in a back room no one had gone through...it was a record from a frigate attached to the Sol execution force. I dunno what happened, but I got obsessed with it. There was so much data, but they were near where...Column Leader Nanhar was supposedly killed.“</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Mrowka glanced at Column Leader Prime Nanhar. “It’s a common name in our family,” he grunted.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Juretti nodded, I sifted through so much data and finally found something. The authorities gave us a lot of data for our ancestor, right down to the time of death...but I heard a transmission from him in the background chatter somewhere on the command deck of this frigate. </span>
  <em>
    <span>After</span>
  </em>
  <span> he’d been supposedly killed. I couldn’t find this transmission anywhere else, but I knew it was him.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Nanhar gritted his teeth, “To shorten my nephew’s tale, one thing led to another, and we found out we may have been ostracizing an innocent man. He came to me and told me of his findings.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Juretti nodded rapidly, “I found out that he </span>
  <em>
    <span>survived</span>
  </em>
  <span> the attack, but he came back to us in a coffin. Not only that though, but he’d also gone to apologize for his failure to the Triarchs in </span>
  <em>
    <span>person</span>
  </em>
  <span>.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“And he was posthumously stripped of all names,” Nanhar growled.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Mrowka shook her head, “I’m sorry, I don’t understand.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“The Triarchs had him executed.” Nanhar hissed.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Mrowka’s mouth twitched. Good. This pissed him off. “I’m sorry? Repeat that?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“The Triarchs had him executed,” Nanhar said more loudly.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Mrowka’s mouth twitched again with a tiny smirk, “Ah. Sorry, you know, silly human ears. A Triarch executed one of your own.” Nanhar twitched. “But what does that have to do with an AI?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Nanhar’s rage shifted, “We started making inquiries. Inquiries somebody didn’t want us making. Our family put in requests that went unanswered. This man set our family's social standing back generations, and it took us years to claw it back. We wanted to know if it had all been in vain. We wanted to know if we were blaming an innocent man. We started to bring public pressure, and those of us who had certain political pull made inquiries. Then they started disappearing. Contacts I knew stopped talking. Some just disappeared.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Juretti nodded, “We tried to avoid getting into too much trouble, but there was a bunch of pressure, and...well…” He fidgeted, “I guess someone heard about our cause. Because we got a few anonymous emails. They sent us more data. And some that were very...interesting. They got us footage from </span>
  <em>
    <span>his</span>
  </em>
  <span> ship’s databanks and records. His vital signs were normal until he left the ship under his own power. But then, we found something much more disturbing.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Nanhar gave a small sad smile to his nephew, “Juretti was the one who found it. I’m glad he did, but…”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Juretti lowered his head, “We found out that for everything they said about the attack on Earth...well, we had to destroy the humans, but...they didn’t </span>
  <em>
    <span>care </span>
  </em>
  <span>if </span>
  <em>
    <span>Bringer of Light</span>
  </em>
  <span> had been destroyed by an AI. That was a </span>
  <em>
    <span>bonus</span>
  </em>
  <span> for them, because they wanted to find out how your ancestors controlled it. We found that when they destroyed your ancient homeworld, the </span>
  <em>
    <span>one</span>
  </em>
  <span> thing the fleet kept intact were two shipwombs that held two more of the same warships that destroyed </span>
  <em>
    <span>Bringer of Light</span>
  </em>
  <span>. And they landed Janissaries to capture them </span>
  <em>
    <span>intact</span>
  </em>
  <span>. And they captured one.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Mrowka blinked. </span>
  <em>
    <span>They wanted </span>
  </em>
  <span>Nemesis. </span>
  <em>
    <span>They wanted our damned ships! </span>
  </em>
  <span>“Prove it.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Nanhar smirked, “All in good time. But doesn’t this explain why we have to keep you under control?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“No, it doesn’t.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Let me put it in a way a </span>
  <em>
    <span>Broken</span>
  </em>
  <span> will understand,” Nanhar said, “Your people created an AI. Three, in fact, and used them to destroy a chariot. You see now why we’ve had to civilize you. You see now why we had to destroy--”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Prove it</span>
  </em>
  <span>,” Mrowka snapped.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Very well. Juretti? Show her the footage.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Uh…” Juretti looked at Kaitet.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I want to see it.” Mrowka snarled.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Kaitet shook her head, “Captain, this isn’t important. What’s important is our alliance! We can’t let this slip through our hands--”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Mrowka looked at her, “Kai when it’s your species on the line next time…”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“It’s ancient history,” Kaitet barked, “</span>
  <em>
    <span>All </span>
  </em>
  <span>of you, it’s ancient history!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The Marines tensed up. Mrowka held up a hand, “Corporal.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Foster made a show of removing her magazine, knocked it against her helmet, and put it back in. Kaitet shook her head.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Juretti. Show the Broken what happened.” Nanhar ordered.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Juretti tapped a few controls on a manual control panel on the table. A monitor winked on in the corner of the room. The lights turned down. Compact military text ran across the screen, with several camera screens and sensor data. There was a visual of a green, red, and blue planet. A lonely speck, orbited by two motes of dust, each with indicator marks. Red icons dotted the space around the speck. Mrowka’s face drained of color. A god’s mighty hand grabbed her heart and squeezed. Her breathing quickened. Kaitet saw the sweat on the captain’s skin glisten. She looked at Mrowka inquiringly, but she wouldn’t turn her head.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>A Compact battleship, accompanied by three more, and several other capital ships appeared in a 3-D model. They approached the planet’s defense grid. Missiles flared on both sides. An alarm sounded as the ship’s computer detected a human target lock. Juretti used a laser pointer to point at the motes. "As you can see, Sol 4A--"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Deimos." Mrowka hissed. Indicators registered fire on both sides, from missiles to energy weapons. She noted footage was sped up to a degree.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"I'm sorry?"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"That's Deimos, the personification of dread," Mrowka said. Phobos’ heavy guns opened fire now. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Ah, well I can see how it seems that way, but Sol 4--"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"</span>
  <em>
    <span>Mars,</span>
  </em>
  <span>" Mrowka said, and her head snapped up, "It has a name. That's Mars, the god of war. The other moon is Phobos, the personification of fear and panic in battle."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The scholar's eyes widened, "Ah, Ms. Mrowka, you're familiar--?"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You’re damn right. I don’t need to see how your grandaddy fucked up. What about the AI?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Juretti quickly input commands. Mrowka heard someone gasp. The footage changed to a view of </span>
  <em>
    <span>Earth</span>
  </em>
  <span>. Earth, from just outside lunar orbit. The screen was awash with indicators, dozens upon dozens of red indicators. Red indicators that designated orbital fortresses, defense grid platforms, and the United Earth Battle Fleet. They were seeing the death throes of the Navy, the last stand of their comrades, their friends, their families.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And it wasn’t just warships. Every merchant vessel, every privateer, every corporate vessel, every vessel capable of fighting had gone to Earth. They knew the end would come, and chose to face it with dignity and courage, striking out against the darkness with the stubborn nobility the human race had shown since time immemorial. Lunar guns pounded away at the enemy, battle stations blew holes in their lines, and fighters raced like piranhas through the inferno. Battleships and corvettes alike fought like mad, pouring their hearts and souls into this last stand, this final battle. They would not bow, they would not give in, right to the bitter end.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Mrowka felt tears at the edges of her eyes. She put a hand to her mouth, not out of shock, but to try and control herself. She </span>
  <em>
    <span>knew</span>
  </em>
  <span> those people. She knew those soldiers. Her family was out there. </span>
  <em>
    <span>I should have been there.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She saw another </span>
  <em>
    <span>Ifrit</span>
  </em>
  <span>-class battleship race by, shredded by enemy fire as she continued to fire. She had run out of weapons, the only one left was herself. A collision warning sounded, and Compact vessels fired maneuvering thrusters to scramble out of the way. Her engines burned as she moved to intercept. It could’ve been the </span>
  <em>
    <span>Richelieu</span>
  </em>
  <span>, the </span>
  <em>
    <span>Thonburi</span>
  </em>
  <span>, the </span>
  <em>
    <span>Monarch</span>
  </em>
  <span>, the </span>
  <em>
    <span>Shikishima</span>
  </em>
  <span>, or the </span>
  <em>
    <span>Resadiye</span>
  </em>
  <span>, or so, so many other battleships. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Get ‘em, damn it, get ‘em!</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Two contacts, one red and one green winked out. The cameras turned away from the larger field of battle. They were over Lunar Prime. She could see the skeletons of dozens of warships. Classes she recognized. Dozens of ships caught blind, helpless, and defenseless. And two conspicuous broadsword shaped objects.</span>
  <em>
    <span> No…!</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The enemy fired. Fired on helpless warships, helpless crews, helpless engineers. They fired everything they had at the rows and rows of yards. Explosions bloomed. The delicate constructs of humanity torn apart, shredded, and bombarded with radiation, with fire, with complete and utter </span>
  <em>
    <span>hatred</span>
  </em>
  <span>. One of the Marines, and the captain herself, looked away. Another Marine just put his arm in front of his face.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Here’s the crucial moment,” Juretti said, and pointed.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Mrowka looked up to see the fire dissipated. And two yards were left intact. Several enemy warships had positioned themselves close to the drydocks. The camera zoomed in and observed hundreds of </span>
  <em>
    <span>boarding craft</span>
  </em>
  <span> race from their hangars to board the skeletal constructs. Mrowka’s fists tightened. The vice on her heart shifted.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Juretti fast-forwarded.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>A voice, clearly edited from some distant background chatter, managed to sound out, “</span>
  <em>
    <span>We’ve taken the command--</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The voice was cut off. One of the broadswords swelled like a balloon. Her aft section bloomed in a fireball; pieces shot out through her flanks as compartments were exposed to space. There was a big ripple from stem to stern before her bow finally blew apart. Mrowka squeezed her eyes shut, bowed her head, and laughed very quietly. She couldn’t tell if she was about to burst into tears or not.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The second broadsword was blown out of her dock, still covered in gantries and construction arms. She tumbled through space as the enemy vessels tried to match her spin. No doubt the crews inside were ready to fight to the end. Mrowka chuckled again, anticipating another scuttling action.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It didn’t come. The enemy came to grips with the last human starship in Sol. They methodically boarded her, slaughtered the crew, and docked battleships to her sides. Only they were powerful enough to move her. Mrowka put a hand to her eyes as they carried the ship away. Her face was drenched in sweat. Her hands were shaking.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The lights came up. Juretti put his hands on the table. “That vessel contained an AI. The very same type that destroyed the </span>
  <em>
    <span>Bringer of Light</span>
  </em>
  <span>. The very thing that killed a Triarch, the most unholy thing in the universe, the last of its kind...and it’s the </span>
  <em>
    <span>one</span>
  </em>
  <span> thing they didn’t kill. They in fact saved it.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“And they’ve spent 2,000 years trying to recreate it,” Nanhar said, “And killing thousands in their attempts.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Ma’am?” Corporal Foster asked in a low voice. Mrowka was looking down at the floor.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>At the corporal’s inquiry, her head snapped up. Her dry Martian eyes burned with a supernova. “Thousands.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yes, it’s quite shocking.” Nanhar said evenly, “It only proves that while the Compact may be corrupt now, our rules against AI are quite warranted. Neverborn can </span>
  <em>
    <span>never</span>
  </em>
  <span> live alongside organics. We’re anathema to them.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Thousands. Do you know how many people were at Lunar Prime?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What does it matter?” Nanhar asked.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Nanhar!” Kaitet barked, astounded.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Nanhar shook his head, “Kaitet…”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Have some decency, Nanhar,” she barked, and turned to Mrowka, “How many?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Mrowka tilted her head at her, “A million engineers, not counting the crews and security personnel.” Kaitet looked into the distance for a moment. Mrowka ignored her, and looked back at Nanhar, “So...that’s it? That’s your big story? Nothing to do with the Triarchs wiping out an entire species...but that they didn’t kill anything </span>
  <em>
    <span>more</span>
  </em>
  <span>?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Nanhar looked </span>
  <em>
    <span>shocked</span>
  </em>
  <span>, “What?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Mrowka narrowed her gaze, “So you see millions of people fighting and </span>
  <em>
    <span>dying</span>
  </em>
  <span> before the entire civilian population is </span>
  <em>
    <span>exterminated</span>
  </em>
  <span>, and all you can focus on is a single AI?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Nanhar blinked again, “Um…”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Juretti looked down at his feet, “Well...I mean...they were racially insane, weren’t they?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Mrowka’s eyes bored into him, “</span>
  <em>
    <span>What?</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Juretti fidgeted, “Those humans fought beyond any reasonable amount. They should’ve known they had no chance. They attacked the </span>
  <em>
    <span>Bringer of Light </span>
  </em>
  <span>during peace negotiations. They fired during First Contact. They destroyed escape pods and surrendered vessels. There was something wrong with them.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Mrowka didn’t know how to respond to that.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Nanhar worked his jaw, “They couldn’t be reasoned with. They destroyed transports, raided colonies, committed suicide bombings, they butchered the chariot and its entire fleet while it was withdrawing! Your ancestors couldn’t be controlled. You saw how they acted when we attacked their homeworld! How barbaric they were!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Mrowka’s head snapped toward him, “What do you mean how we acted? Did you ever think about what </span>
  <em>
    <span>your</span>
  </em>
  <span> people did to </span>
  <em>
    <span>us</span>
  </em>
  <span> when we surrendered? Did you ever stop to think that maybe we just didn’t want to join the Compact?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What do you mean ‘we’?” Nanhar demanded, “You Rally humans are different!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Mrowka shot to her feet. Terrible feelings of homesickness, hopelessness, and grief, coupled with stubbornness, anger, and hatred coursed through her body. All pretense of the act disappeared. She couldn’t do it anymore. She couldn’t deny it. “I’m a </span>
  <em>
    <span>Martian</span>
  </em>
  <span>, you son of a bitch,” she snarled.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Juretti furrowed his brow, then his eyes widened. He moved the monitor footage back to the green, blue, and red orb that was her home, “You mean...Sol Four?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I mean </span>
  <em>
    <span>Mars</span>
  </em>
  <span>,” Mrowka snapped.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You </span>
  <em>
    <span>want</span>
  </em>
  <span> to associate with those people?” Nanhar demanded, “They were all violent monsters. Look at what you did to our ships!” Nanhar said. He leaned over and hit a control. The Martian defense grid flashed in the battleship's cameras as a capital ship beside it ran headlong into a mass driver round. Captain Mrowka closed her eyes and touched her fingertips over her nose.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“This is why we’re so curious, </span>
  <em>
    <span>Ms</span>
  </em>
  <span>. Mrowka,” Nanhar growled, “We want to know why you would associate yourselves with such monsters.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The unattended footage ran on autoplay to another clip. Mars </span>
  <em>
    <span>bled</span>
  </em>
  <span> under a silent barrage of every weapon known to exist. The enormous orbital shipyards that were their pride and joy came crashing down on the factories of the first world humanity colonized; on the industry that had fueled their expansion to the stars. The oceans boiled as the atmosphere ignited. The Valles Marineris was dry once more. The few remaining lights on the dark side went out as the firestorms ravaged cities and green alike. What green had been visible was no more. Mrowka shook her head, threw up her arm, and turned away, “No...turn it off! Turn it off, for god’s sake! Make it stop, damn it!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Foster stepped over and smashed the butt of her rifle into the display.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Whoa!” Juretti exclaimed.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Kaitet held up her hands to her guards, “Hey, calm down!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Nanhar shot to his feet, “Ms. Mrowka!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"It's </span>
  <em>
    <span>captain</span>
  </em>
  <span>," she snapped, glaring up at the Tribune, all her hate focused onto this one sneering target, all her grief, all her fury, "My name is </span>
  <em>
    <span>Captain Mrowka</span>
  </em>
  <span>. I am a </span>
  <em>
    <span>captain</span>
  </em>
  <span> in the UEC Navy, and you will address me </span>
  <em>
    <span>properly</span>
  </em>
  <span>. It is not ‘Ms’, my title is ‘Captain’, do you hear me, little man?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The Tribune was almost fifty centimeters taller than she was and probably as old as she was. Terrible feelings of grief, rage ran through her head, feelings both old and new. The memories of a destroyed civilization clashed with distant memories of her dear </span>
  <em>
    <span>Thunder Child.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“She doesn’t deserve that eagle on her collar!” The insult ran through the military courtroom, met by a chorus of voices both for and against her.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Mrowka tugged at her collar, “You see these things? I </span>
  <em>
    <span>earned</span>
  </em>
  <span> these. I didn’t cheat, I didn’t lie, I didn’t steal, and I was </span>
  <em>
    <span>never</span>
  </em>
  <span> a coward. I fought for ten years to defend my home with everything I had. I didn’t throw ships away, they got shot out from under me. I never gave up. I earned this title saving lives and killing Commies, not for running away, and I </span>
  <em>
    <span>certainly </span>
  </em>
  <span>didn’t make it up. I am a </span>
  <em>
    <span>captain</span>
  </em>
  <span>, and nobody’s going to take that away from me!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Mrowka seethed with anger, “I’m </span>
  <em>
    <span>glad</span>
  </em>
  <span> your granddaddy didn’t get clipped by Deimos. Saved us the ammo. It’s probably the one thing the Triarchs did right. That bastard was a </span>
  <em>
    <span>war criminal</span>
  </em>
  <span>. Everyone in that fleet was a </span>
  <em>
    <span>goddamn war criminal</span>
  </em>
  <span>. I’m just mad I couldn’t see the look on his face when they shot him. What did you expect, invading Mars?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Nanhar shook his head, "Your people constructed the AI. You are ultimately at fault for all these deaths."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Mrowka scowled. She wanted to kill him. She wanted to kill him with her bare hands. She wanted to wipe that smirk off her face. But finally, professionalism managed to get her under control. “Which deaths are you referring to? Because I'm having trouble figuring out which ones you actually care about.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Nanhar crossed his arms, “Your AI has </span>
  <em>
    <span>murdered</span>
  </em>
  <span> thousands of people--”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"It's always about the AI, isn't it? You know what? I wouldn't have it any other way. I'm </span>
  <em>
    <span>glad </span>
  </em>
  <span>your idiots are dead. For a gang of thugs, it's about what you deserve."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"I beg your pardon?"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Mrowka started ticking off points on her fingers, "Let's see what you did...you murdered all of Earth, destroyed the other two AI, then kidnapped this one. Did it ever occur to you that maybe the problem isn’t that it was an AI, but maybe just, I don't know… </span>
  <em>
    <span>it didn't like you?</span>
  </em>
  <span>"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"That never matters to an AI. It would've turned on your people eventually."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"</span>
  <em>
    <span>I don't like you either,</span>
  </em>
  <span>" she snarled.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"That's unfortunate."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Mrowka shook her head, "What's the big deal? Just because we made an AI, </span>
  <em>
    <span>the entire human race had to die?</span>
  </em>
  <span>"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Nanhar waved a hand, "It’s not just that. It's a scientific fact; your people </span>
  <em>
    <span>were</span>
  </em>
  <span> insane, though to a degree exaggerated in the historical record. But it was enough to be deemed necessary, as eventually, you would have destroyed us or yourselves."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Kaitet coughed. Mrowka peered into the Shade officer with a power that could melt solid metal. The Marines twitched. "Captain?" Foster asked.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Is something the matter?" Nanhar asked. There was a shadow of a smile.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"</span>
  <em>
    <span>I have to go consult with my ship.</span>
  </em>
  <span>" Mrowka snarled, "We’ll send the diplomatic party over. Foster, with me." She stormed out the door with the Marines in hot pursuit.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Her mind was a cauldron of rage and grief. Mars burned over and over in her mind. The oceans of her home, the Valles Marineris Sea of her childhood drying up…</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She bashed into a bulkhead when she turned a corner too fast and snarled with pain when she felt a lance of pain in her right hand.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Captain?” Foster asked.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’m fine,” Mrowka murmured, and held the side of her hand, “Back to the ship, people.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>
  <span>There were footsteps behind them. Foster and her fellows dropped into combat poses. It was Kaitet, without any escorts. The Tribune put up her hands, "whoa, whoa, whoa! I just want to talk!"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"I need to talk with my ship." Mrowka snarled, without turning around.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"No, I mean…" Kaitet glanced back, "I told you, my cousin…"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"I need to talk to my ship." The captain repeated.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"I... Captain, please…"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Mrowka finally turned around. She still held her injured hand.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Kaitet scratched her head, "look, don't let him get to you. Your people and mine need each other too much for this. Please, you need…"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"</span>
  <em>
    <span>I </span>
  </em>
  <span>don't need to do anything. We're going to do what we damn well please before another Tribune tells us what to do." Mrowka growled. She waved at Foster, and the Marines allowed her to step closer to the Tribune. “We’re not throwing the deal out. It’s not like we have a choice. But we </span>
  <em>
    <span>don’t</span>
  </em>
  <span> have to grovel at the feet of bastards like him. Is the deal you and I hashed out still on?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Kaitet grimaced, "Yes, yes it is. You can send your diplomatic team over anytime now.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Mrowka nodded and turned to leave.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Kaitet called out, “Captain, I know how you feel, that sort of shit sickens me. Nanhar--"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"You </span>
  <em>
    <span>don't</span>
  </em>
  <span> get it, Kai," Mrowka hissed.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"I do! Your people--!"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"You </span>
  <em>
    <span>don't</span>
  </em>
  <span> get it," Mrowka snapped and whirled about. She pointed at the bulkhead, "that son of a bitch is using </span>
  <em>
    <span>our </span>
  </em>
  <span>history for his political agenda, and focusing on the </span>
  <em>
    <span>wrong fucking subject!</span>
  </em>
  <span>"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Kaitet nodded, "Captain, that's why I'm in this mess! Because of something </span>
  <em>
    <span>I </span>
  </em>
  <span>did, a client friend of mine was killed, and yet </span>
  <em>
    <span>he </span>
  </em>
  <span>was not only blamed, but </span>
  <em>
    <span>I</span>
  </em>
  <span> was cleared of all charges, and...and my family blamed him.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>That hit something in Mrowka’s heart, but she was too angry to pay attention.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Kaitet put up her hands, “I know, I </span>
  <em>
    <span>know</span>
  </em>
  <span> the Compact is like that! That’s why I left! </span>
  <em>
    <span>And</span>
  </em>
  <span> I know I haven't experienced what you have! But I </span>
  <em>
    <span>want </span>
  </em>
  <span>to know!"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Do you?" Mrowka demanded, "or are we just animals to you?"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Client friends are the only ones I've got left, captain," Kaitet growled, "my 'family' consists of...of fools like my cousin there. He’s a complete idiot. It’s not just humans, he picks fights with everybody, even other Tribunes from colonies he doesn’t like! He’s nearly started a war with half a dozen pirate groups, and he even once nearly got stabbed by a guy in a wheelchair. This is why I’m negotiating, usually! I'm trying to help you!"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"By what? Trying to ‘restore’ the Compact? Wake the fuck up, Katey! You </span>
  <em>
    <span>saw </span>
  </em>
  <span>what they did! There were three billion people on Mars! Sixteen billion people on Earth!"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Kaitet growled in frustration, and said, "genocide isn't something you forget overnight. I'm sorry! I wish there was something I could do! But 2,000 years is a long time! I'm sorry!"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"You're </span>
  <em>
    <span>sorry?</span>
  </em>
  <span>" Mrowka demanded loudly, "you're </span>
  <em>
    <span>sorry</span>
  </em>
  <span>?" She held out her right hand. An angry slash mark went down the side of it from the bottom of her fifth digit to her wrist. Her other hand had bloodstains across it. The blood ran to her sleeve, and all along the length of the mark, droplets started to fall.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Captain...!" Foster said in concern. Kaitet was taken aback.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Crimson droplets fell to the deck. “You see that? Each one of those is someone your people killed. My parents, my aunts, my sister, her children…dead, dead, dead..."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Kaitet looked between her and the droplets.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Mrowka looked at the drops, as if fascinated, "Huh. Do you know how little O-positive blood there is left in the galaxy thanks to your people?" She looked up, "this is some of the last Martian blood in the galaxy. And there isn't enough of it in my body to represent even my entire hometown. </span>
  <em>
    <span>That </span>
  </em>
  <span>is how many people you monsters</span>
  <em>
    <span> butchered</span>
  </em>
  <span>."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Her hand still dripped. "I can hear their screams every night when I go to sleep. I see their faces in my dreams. I wasn't there to protect them, and I wasn't there to die with them." The droplets made a larger stain, "We're accepting your deal, but I am not sitting another second in a room with that </span>
  <em>
    <span>creature</span>
  </em>
  <span>. If he says another word about us, I </span>
  <em>
    <span>will </span>
  </em>
  <span>kill him."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She flexed her fingers, and more droplets dripped, "and if you cared about your friend…"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Captain?" Foster asked, "Captain Mrowka, ma'am…we need to report in."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Ask your friend what he'd want, Katey," Mrowka snarled, "ask him. If you were really his friend, and if you really cared about your cause, you'll know what to do."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>With that, the Martian left Kaitet standing in front of a small puddle of blood.</span>
</p><p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0012"><h2>12. Voyager</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>"I have been guilty of pride and arrogance. It is I, and I alone, who am responsible for what my Voyager did. These other people are innocent."<br/>"This plea is dismissed...prepare to witness the judgement of Sidon."<br/>"Then you, Aarchon, are no more worthy of life than I am."</p><p>- Space: 1999, "Voyager's Return"</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>The museum was cool and tranquil. The only sound that broke the silence was Admiral Moreno’s footsteps through the hardwood floor. She walked through easily, hands in her pockets. The building had a long central corridor with a series of galleries off to either side. She looked up to see a skylight overhead, through which a blue sky could be seen. A contrail was visible way up high, and a flock of birds flew by.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Moreno looked back down at the corridor. It was made of such...</span>
  <em>
    <span>earthy</span>
  </em>
  <span> materials. There were none of the high-tech metal boxes that had surrounded her for so many months, so many </span>
  <em>
    <span>years</span>
  </em>
  <span>. Marble columns dotted the gallery entryways, drywall was in place, and...Moreno moved to one side, put a gloved hand against the wall, and closed her eyes. Printed concrete. Such an ancient material. She never realized how much she missed it. It felt like home.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The admiral sighed and sat down on a bench near the door. She hadn’t taken it easy in who-knew how long. It had been </span>
  <em>
    <span>years</span>
  </em>
  <span> since she’d been in a museum that wasn’t on a military base. Of course, this didn’t count, but it would be the closest thing she’d get until they made planetfall. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Whenever the hell </span>
  </em>
  <span>that’s</span>
  <em>
    <span> gonna be…</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She rubbed her eyes and wondered if she should go to her quarters to rest. She only had two hours left off-duty, and had already taken a power nap, but wouldn’t a longer one be more valuable? Well, she’d already taken one, and she didn’t want to muddle her mind any more than she had to. Mental relaxation would have to do.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Diplomacy was a pain. While they had a handful of (technical)ambassadors in the fleet, that did not omit the military leadership from being forced to participate in some of the negotiations. Moreno glanced at her PDA’s calendar. “</span>
  <em>
    <span>Principality - 1400</span>
  </em>
  <span>”. It was 1203, now. She would’ve thought not being on the run would be a lot easier than this.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>A gust of wind and the scent of fresh air swirled around her as someone opened the double-doors behind her. Moreno glanced back to see through the glass doors, where two sailors had just entered the museum’s vestibule. The outer glass doors thumped shut behind them as one yanked the inner door open. His eyes widened and he stopped in his tracks. His friend walked into him and they both stumbled forward.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Watch it,” the second spat.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Man, shut up! It’s the admiral!” the first hissed, and snapped to attention.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The second looked at Moreno and his eyes practically jumped out of his skull. He snapped to attention as well, and both saluted, “Admiral, ma’am! We-- We didn’t--”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“At ease,” Moreno said, and returned the salutes, “I’m just out for a walk. Enjoy the museum.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Uh--yes, ma’am!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The sailors glanced at each other, then the second shoved the first along, “C’mon, let’s go!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Moreno smiled a little as she watched them go. There weren’t too many people in the museum. It was an odd mixture of different displays, from artwork to technology, to history. She passed one within which the painting </span>
  <em>
    <span>Ivan the Terrible and his Son </span>
  </em>
  <span>was displayed. Moreno gave an appraising glance at it. It was such a haunting scene. She kept walking. She looked up at the skylight again. It was a vast cool blue sky, like on Earth or other similar colonies, rather than the more grey-blue she’d grown up with on Slayton Colony. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>As she walked, she noticed one gallery down the way had a pair of Marines guarding the entrance. She approached, and they saluted. Moreno returned the salute and looked into the gallery behind them. There were no other people visible. “Report, Marine.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Escort for the prisoner, ma’am,” one of the PFCs reported.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Moreno nodded, “Who’s in charge here?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Lieutenant Okafor. She’s just inside. If you’ll follow me?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Moreno waved, “No thank you, I can manage. Just through here?” She pointed and the Marine nodded, “At ease.” Moreno entered the gallery. She hadn’t noted the name, but quickly deduced what it was. It gave her a terrible feeling of homesickness.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It was a gallery on space travel. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Early</span>
  </em>
  <span> human space travel. Photos of Tsiolkovsky, Von Braun, Goddard, Oberth, and so many others, occupied the first segment. She paused by the image of Von Braun. </span>
  <em>
    <span>I wonder what he’d make of all this?</span>
  </em>
  <span> The man was a controversial figure even so long after the fact. Was he a murderer or a genius with a gun to his head?</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Moreno walked on. She moved past the depictions of early rocketry, from models of Chinese rockets to Goddard’s early experiments. She paused near the models of V-2s, and replicas and film of the crude primitive devices that pushed Sputnik into space. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Beep beep beep beep</span>
  </em>
  <span> spoke a small recording. There were still no other visitors, other than a few Marines at some intersections. Two jumped back from a display on the McDonnell Douglas DC-X and pretended to look busy. Moreno nodded at them with a deadpan expression and stopped to study the old SpaceX Falcon rockets beside the Delta Clipper. Some of the cargo auxiliary craft in the fleet still bore a passing resemblance to those old spacecraft. Like comparing a late-model Cessna and the ones made when the company was first founded.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She walked on and found a corner where two more Marines stood guard. Moreno opened her mouth to ask one of them, a corporal, a question, then turned her head to see inside the gallery. There was a Tribune inside. A moment of panic came and went when she saw five Marines standing in a circle around him; and she noticed a woman in Navy fatigues stood beside the Tribune. The Marine sergeant in charge of the squad spotted her approach and quick-marched to the gallery entrance. Moreno looked at him, “Who’s in charge here, Sergeant?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The non-com saluted, and she returned it, “Ma’am, Lieutenant Okafor is.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>At the sound, the Navy woman and the Tribune turned. The lieutenant walked over and saluted, “Admiral Moreno, ma’am. Lieutenant Okafor, Navy Swords.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Moreno returned the salute, “Yes, I remember you. You brought in the Tribune smuggler.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The Tribune took a few careful steps closer, still maintaining a large berth from Moreno, and waved with his handcuffed hands. “Good day, admiral!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Moreno raised an eyebrow at Okafor, who commented, “He’s heard people mention it.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The admiral nodded. </span>
  <em>
    <span>It’s not as if rank tells him anything. He’s just going to think it sounds weird.</span>
  </em>
  <span> Their secret was still safe. She jerked her head to the Sword. They moved a little way around a corner, and Moreno asked “What’s he doing in here?” She’d probably been informed, but her staff had been so backed up with emails that it could’ve slipped her mind.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I thought since he’s a guest, and not a POW, when he got his chance to stretch his legs, Uvei here might appreciate a walk around a museum,” Okafor replied. She glanced at the corner, and said in a lower voice, “Also, I figure since he’s one of our allies, it wouldn’t hurt to show him some uh...</span>
  <em>
    <span>reasons</span>
  </em>
  <span> to help us in the future. Indoctrination, right?” she winked.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Moreno nodded, “I see. You </span>
  <em>
    <span>have</span>
  </em>
  <span> informed your superiors about this plan, correct?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Captain Kumar is aware, yes. She suggested it. We figure this stuff, so long as we keep him out of the shift drive section, won’t give anything away. He’ll just think we’re another privateer group that has a museum. Apparently, there’s a number of those.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Moreno frowned. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Holland is going to have a conniption if I don’t keep my distance. But I’ve never actually spoken to this...man before. Or </span>
  </em>
  <span>any</span>
  <em>
    <span> Compact civilian. </span>
  </em>
  <span>They were still people, with families, hopes, and dreams. She had to remember that.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“With all due respect, ma’am, what are </span>
  <em>
    <span>you</span>
  </em>
  <span> doing here?” Okafor asked, voicing her thoughts, “The colonel won’t be happy.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I </span>
  <em>
    <span>was</span>
  </em>
  <span> hoping to take a break and try to relax, but I can see that won’t quite be the case.” She sighed and made as if to leave. Then she paused. She tilted her head around the corner to eye the Tribune. Then to Okafor’s surprise, she asked, “Mind if I join you?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She looked like she was about to explode with shock for a second, “Uh, no ma’am, but...is that safe?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I don’t know. Is it? He’s not a janissary, that’s for sure. And considering how close you were standing…” Okafor still looked nervous, and Moreno smiled a little, “Don’t worry Lieutenant. I’ll take responsibility.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I--! Yes, ma’am. Just please keep your distance. He’s harmless, but I just don’t want to get in any trouble.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Duly noted,” Moreno walked back around the corner and stopped just short of the Marine perimeter. She eyed Uvei, “So, what were you two looking at?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Uvei looked up at her inquiry, then at the Marines. He glanced at the exhibit, “An ancient art gallery. You know, this isn't the first time I've been given a tour of a... entrepreneur's museum. This one is a lot better, I can tell you that. It doesn't smell."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Moreno glanced at Okafor, and she grimaced, "the less you know the better." </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The admiral looked at the exhibit and smiled. It was an exhibit of paintings on early human space travel. There were depictions of astronauts, cosmonauts, taikonauts, and spationauts, from the Mercury Program to the first landings on Europa and Ganymede. Uvei stood in front of one particular art piece that drew her eye.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“This one is known as ‘</span>
  <em>
    <span>The Spirit of Apollo</span>
  </em>
  <span>’,” Uvei said, “It was by an ancient astronaut.” The art piece depicted a pair of astronauts in ancient spacesuits bounding across the surface of the moon. Their arms were extended forward; the one on the left held the flag of one of Earth’s ancient superpowers, while the one on the right held a large olive branch. They wore big, white, and puffy spacesuits, with archaic hoses, enormous packs, rough boots, and big helmets that reflected their outstretched arms and the yawning expanse of the untamed moon. Their body language showed excitement, glee, and determination. Earth loomed heartrendingly-large in the background, far closer than in reality. The North and South American continents could be seen under layers of big white clouds, spread across the surface. A hurricane developed off the Pacific coast. The entire piece had a translucent overlay in the shape of the tracks those ancient men left in the dust.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’m familiar with it. The artist was Alan Bean, Apollo 12, the second manned landing on Luna,” Moreno said idly. She walked up to the painting. She let out a small wistful noise and reached out to touch it. Her gloves brushed against the surface, and she felt the rough texture of the image; jagged, like Luna’s surface. She took her hand away and looked at the tips of her fingers. Nothing had come away. There wasn’t any sign that she’d even touched it. It was like it was frozen in time. She rubbed her fingers together, “Did you know there’s actual moon dust in this painting?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Okafor blinked, and Uvei tilted his head, “Really?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yep. And not just moon dust, he put an actual piece of foil from the Apollo 11 command module in here,” she pointed at Buzz Aldrin’s hand holding the olive branch, “from the first mission to land on the moon. And somewhere in here, there’s a piece of foil from the Apollo 12 command module hatch.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Uvei squinted, “Incredible! I must apologize, I can’t see it.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Okafor shrugged, “Well, neither can I. How’d he get it in there anyway?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“It’s kinda funny; back then, getting to Luna, Earth’s moon, was a big deal, and every kilogram counted. The space program was tiny back then. So the astronauts could usually only get souvenirs that were replaceable, or close to it, so they couldn’t get any rock samples from Luna. But Bean wanted some dust, and he </span>
  <em>
    <span>did</span>
  </em>
  <span> have the spacesuit patches that were covered in moon dust. So he scraped the dust off the patches, mixed it with the paint, and even used a hammer to smooth it down for good measure. He did that with a bunch of paintings.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She looked at the Tribune, “It’s supposed to represent the massive undertaking it was to go to the moon, and bring these men back alive, that we could do so much more than we imagined, and for the right reasons. That olive branch represents that they came in peace for all humanity. The flag is also meant for that, but it’s got some weird connotations from the time. It was meant as a sort of ‘we made it’ sign, but also has some nasty colonialist implications. The point still stands, though.” She hoped she read the plaque properly.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Ma'am, if I may? I think it was also to show up the Soviets, kinda like the Sputnik beeping," Okafor pointed out, "kinda national gloating, really."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Moreno shrugged, "Yeah, you're right. Ah, sometimes you forget the things you learned as a kid. You know how people are from col…" she glanced at Uvei for a moment, "... where I'm from are like. My teachers always did play some things up a bit </span>
  <em>
    <span>too</span>
  </em>
  <span> nicely."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Uvei nodded thoughtfully, “Fascinating. It reminds me of an artist from my homeworld, back before we ventured to the stars. His first name was Cal-cin...I don’t recall how many other names he had. Anyway, after our last global war, at least the ones between just nations on our world and not with off-world colonies, he gathered dust from all of our nation-states -- pretty difficult with all the trouble that went on back then -- and water from all of our world’s oceans. He mixed them into watercolor paints and used them to paint a massive painting of our world. To show that no matter how much we hurt each other, we were all one world. That was the name of it, ‘</span>
  <em>
    <span>One World’</span>
  </em>
  <span>.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Moreno smiled a genuine expression that also hurt her heart.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“That sounds so...pleasant,” Okafor commented.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“It was. The painting was damaged over time, by other conflicts, but it’s always survived in some way.” with a glance at the Marines, Uvei stepped over to some of the other paintings. He gestured at another, “Ah, I may not know much about your people, but I know an orbit injection when I see one!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>An Apollo spacecraft was high above the moon, faced away from the viewer, pointed toward the Earth. The plague labeled it as “</span>
  <em>
    <span>Homeward Bound</span>
  </em>
  <span>”. “Interesting detail on the spacecraft...tiny thing, isn’t it?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What? No comment about how primitive it is?” Okafor asked.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Lieutenant, I know better than that!” the smuggler responded with mock offense.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, you know enough to not get punched…” Okafor said with a grin.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Moreno walked over to another painting, a stranger one. “Huh, Cooper.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What?” Okafor asked, then moved forward and squinted at the plaque, “</span>
  <em>
    <span>‘First Steps’</span>
  </em>
  <span>...huh, Gordon Cooper. Who was that?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“He was the youngest Mercury astronaut,” Moreno commented and studied the image. It was a very odd image of Cooper in his spacesuit, emerging from his spacecraft after his flight. It shimmered in the light and was divided into sections like a stain glass window.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“It’s got kind of a cubist feel…” one of the Marines commented. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The others fell silent and all looked at him. The Marine blinked, then scrunched down a bit. “It’s just cubist is all…”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Okafor shrugged, “I wouldn’t know. Is that an art thing?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Why are you asking </span>
  <em>
    <span>me</span>
  </em>
  <span>?” Uvei asked.</span>
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>
  <span>They moved past the artwork into another section. Spacesuits. A bright orange pressure suit with a white helmet marked "</span>
  <em>
    <span>CCCP</span>
  </em>
  <span>" appeared in a hologram beside them. On the right was a bright silver spacesuit. Further down there was a brown suit with a bright silver faceplate and held up by an orange brace. Opposite it was a replica of the Apollo suits.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>And dead-center was an actual suit. A National Aeronautical Space Administration Extravehicular Mobility Unit. It was big, puffy like a marshmallow, and far more refined than those around it. It had a chest-mounted control module, streamlined into the body, not so crude as the older suits. A pair of headlights were mounted to either side of the golden visor. The pack was far smaller than the Apollo suit. The flag of the United States of America was on the left shoulder, a Vitruvian EVA patch on the right, and a red stripe on each thigh.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Moreno had her eyes locked on that EMU suit. </span>
  <em>
    <span>This</span>
  </em>
  <span> was the spacesuit that defined generations of spaceflight, </span>
  <em>
    <span>this </span>
  </em>
  <span>was the spacesuit that helped build Earth's satellite network. </span>
  <em>
    <span>This</span>
  </em>
  <span> was the suit that was flown to pieces as Earth fell to her knees under the Red Death. There were only eighteen ever made. And here was the last one in the universe. She walked up to it and reached out her hand in reverence. The controls and systems were so primitive, life support could only deliver a paltry eight hours, and you had to pre-breathe oxygen for hours before you could even take an EVA. But something about it drove her heart to tears. It was so primitive but so </span>
  <em>
    <span>proud</span>
  </em>
  <span>. It was an entire era of space travel; back then it represented a testament to human achievement. Moreno glanced back at the suits of Yuri and Alan, then back to this suit. They were all proud. They were ready to go out into the dark. They'd known they might not make it, and so many of them paid the price.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Moreno spotted Uvei studying the old Krechet spacesuit. One hand balled into a fist. The other gloved hand reached out to touch the EMU's sleeve. It was rougher than one thought. While the appearance was soft, up close it was rough. It was rough with age, by operation by countless astronauts and cosmonauts. The fabric felt sewn in places, with tiny wrinkles and tears. Being this close to the suit was both comforting and unsettling; if you weren’t used to it you’d think it would jump out and grab you. Moreno grew up around the old pressure suits though, or at least replicas. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The comfort came in part from their thickness. They looked like you were walking around in winter blankets. Truth be told, they weren’t exactly the most comfortable for moving about. Even the biggest modern spacesuits had powered joints and systems, but all the early pioneers had was muscle power to bend the clumsy sleeves and fingers. She lifted one of the arms, and extended the fingers, “Ah, I heard you could lose your fingernails in these things.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Okafor looked over, then flexed her fingers, “Ouch! What was wrong with them? Was there something in the gloves?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“That’s horrible, that’s…” Uvei slowly looked at Okafor, “...wait, really? </span>
  <em>
    <span>That</span>
  </em>
  <span> makes you uncomfortable?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"That </span>
  <em>
    <span>is</span>
  </em>
  <span> messed up, Pluto! What's the matter with you?"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He tilted his head at her, "You...you tried to smash my visor in when we first met. How is it that this comparatively minor injury can make you uncomfortable? How can </span>
  <em>
    <span>anything</span>
  </em>
  <span> make you uncomfortable?"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Ya wanna find out what makes me comfortable?” She said with a clenched fist. Her other hand was clenched, though perhaps more to erase the thought of fingernails from her mind.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Uvei rolled his eyes with a snort, “Probably not with that attitude.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Smart guy.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Moreno ignored their banter. The dust in the suit drew her attention again. She couldn’t feel the tiny particles embedded in the ortho-fabric, but it suddenly occurred to her that this old spacesuit was more than just a piece of history, more than just fabricated at home, it had pieces of every part of Earth embedded in it. It was made of material mined, farmed, and synthesized on Earth, and had collected dust from orbit. Tiny bits of micrometeorites, interplanetary dust, spacecraft exhaust, and even particles of the hulls of said spacecraft. She bet they could pick out pieces of hundreds of space launches.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Her gloved hand brushed against something, and she made a fist. She dropped her arms and stepped away from the suit, an odd expression on her face.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>As they moved on, Moreno glanced at Uvei again. Aside from his snark, he didn’t make any comments that weren’t disagreeable. She knew he was a civilian, but she thought it odd he hadn’t claimed this was some boring review of primitive cultures celebrating something everyone else had already done. Maybe he </span>
  <em>
    <span>was </span>
  </em>
  <span>just polite.</span>
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>
  <span>They found their way to an exhibit on the Voyager space probes. A replica of the probe hovered free-floating above them, and several holographic displays floated before them. Uvei’s translators still didn’t act on the written word, so Okafor explained the purpose of the vehicle. One of the displays was an image of the golden record, and it scrolled through the ancient images stored on the record.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>An audio file with a few controls played the Sounds of Earth quietly.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span> Curious, Uvei gestured to the controls, “You said they had music stored on there? Can you play some?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Sure,” Okafor used a gloved hand to switch the menu to the musical section. She selected the “random” option. “It says ‘</span>
  <em>
    <span>Cranes in their nest- Japan</span>
  </em>
  <span>’.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>A calming flute piece played, both high-pitched and deep. Long notes were played, then smaller and more rapid ones, in more complex patterns. It went back and forth between the extremes, this long and haunting piece, that was also...perhaps not friendly but not a negative sort of haunting. It was very natural.</span>
  <strong>
    
  </strong>
  <span>Uvei for once didn’t have a snappy remark. He just stood and gazed at the player. It went on for several minutes. When it finally finished, the Tribune was still silent.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He coughed, “I...I didn’t think humans could make something this beautiful…” His words caught in his throat. Moreno’s entire demeanor shifted. The Marines moved subtly. Even Okafor was glaring at him. “I...I didn’t think…”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Moreno frowned. “You didn’t think? Well, I didn’t think Tribunes could make something like </span>
  <em>
    <span>One World</span>
  </em>
  <span>.” She reached up and pulled off the glasses she wore to rub her eyes. She let the glasses hang at her side. The skylight was gone. The printed concrete, the wood, the stone, it was all gone. The party stood in one of </span>
  <em>
    <span>Vanguard's </span>
  </em>
  <span>many recreation decks, equipped for many uses. It was reconfigurable for events both public and private, virtual or otherwise. “If you’ll excuse me, I have to get back to my duties.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span> Moreno walked back through the dimly-lit gallery, where she passed blank pedestals, blank lightweight walls, and walked on a black metal floor. As she walked she pulled off black haptic feedback gloves, and other such devices. Everything was holographic, electronic impulses, or simple imagination in here. An illusion. The texture of the painting, the feeling of the spacesuit, everything. It was the only reason touching Bean’s painting didn’t give her a heart attack or set off any alarms. Because it was all an illusion. The entire room was an illusion. The spacesuit, the painting, Voyager 1, the models, absolutely everything was holograms and haptic feedback.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Nice going,” she heard Okafor mutter just before she was out of earshot. Moreno kept walking.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She made it to the door, where fans and other systems simulated a breeze around a lightweight door. She exited through the double doors to the antechamber and paused to pull off some shoe oversleeves. She put the equipment back on harnesses, where it would be disinfected for the next user. Moreno rubbed her eyes again and glanced back at the door. Augmented reality could only take her back so far. Maybe one of the cruise liner recreation decks would be more convincing.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She stepped back into the corridor aboard the deep space battleship, far from blue skies and far from art. She stopped and rubbed her fingertips together again. While what she’d touched had been a hologram, the real </span>
  <em>
    <span>Spirit of Apollo</span>
  </em>
  <span> was one of the relatively few artworks they’d saved. Before the Fall of Earth, when even unconditional surrender was still an option, intel on the Compact’s colonialist ways awoke some ancient deep-seated fears. Or </span>
  <em>
    <span>nightmares</span>
  </em>
  <span>. They knew </span>
  <em>
    <span>exactly</span>
  </em>
  <span> what the Compact would do. Those cultures and people who had rebuilt themselves from the colonial days, those who had survived the cultural genocides of 19th century Earth, once again found themselves under existential threat. The new cultures that had developed in the colonies, the former imperialist cultures, everyone would be under threat. They knew that no matter what happened, they had to hold onto everything they had built. They couldn’t forget who they were.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Never again.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Thus, the evacuation fleets, before the Compact marked humanity for death, each not only had databanks of the sum of human knowledge, but an allotment of historical artifacts, paintings, and works designated culturally or historically significant. Digital copies weren’t enough, not with things like Alan Bean’s painting, embedded with pieces of spacecraft, or other art pieces and artifacts like that. </span>
  <em>
    <span>The Spirit of Apollo</span>
  </em>
  <span> and many other paintings still existed, tucked away on some transport in the fleet, alongside the last NASA EMU and pieces of Soviet and American spacecraft. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Of course, it wasn’t limited to the early space program, they’d saved everything they could. They’d saved artwork, clothing, weapons, authentic texts, machinery, fossils, and so many other artifacts from across space and time. They had so much of Earth’s history. And so little. Their tiny fleet had a few cargo pods that represented all the last worldly possessions of humanity’s biggest museums; the paltry remains of the Smithsonian, of the Louvre, the British Museum, the Orbital One Institute, Terra Novan institutes, and so, so many others. The EMU was one of the biggest surviving pieces of early human spaceflight that weren’t currently drifting in Sol or rusting away in the ruins of Earth.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Moreno took a few steps forward, then leaned one hand against the bulkhead. It hit her again. That EMU was all that was left. That stupid primitive little life support system built by the lowest bidder and neglected for decades by an agency with a joke of a budget was all that was left. That stupid little spacesuit built by a long-gone nation that had forgotten how to dream, and later even how to care, a worthless unappreciated spacesuit holding together an unappreciated space program an unappreciative planet sought to dismantle at every opportunity. It was all that was left. Of those ancient victories and setbacks, and that period where the entire world scarcely considered anything beyond the sky. There were no more Apollo capsules, no more Soyuz craft, and no more shuttles.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The horror, the sadness, the overwhelming heartache drowned out the specifics. Waves of history swept her up as she thought about the Voyager program, a message cast into the cosmos. A message from the pale blue dot.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Tears threatened to fall.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Moreno slid to the floor, hand over her face. The Compact didn’t just kill humanity. They’d tried to kill every human being who ever lived. They tried to destroy everything that had been recorded on that little probe. They’d tried to destroy their memories, their hopes, their dreams, everything they’d ever built. They wanted to make sure every human trial and tribulation was for </span>
  <em>
    <span>nothing.</span>
  </em>
  <span> They wanted to eliminate trains and rockets, factories and museums, the Golden Gate Bridge and the Sydney Opera House, the Shift Drive and Terra Nova, the orbital habitats, and terraformed planets. They’d tried to kill every religion, every ideology, every leader, every tyrant, every hero and villain, every forward thinker, every humble farmer in human history. They wanted to annihilate even the memories of wind through the trees and new-fallen snow, the pounding surf and green grass, of crickets, frogs, horses, sheep, dolphins, crocodiles, and elephants.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Every plant, every animal, every ecosystem, everything humanity had ever documented had to die screaming in agony completely unaware and unable to know what had come. And every single life form howled the everlasting question of those deemed “collateral damage”. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Why? Why us?</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Because of a single word, a single solitary word that could never be tolerated, never be spoken, never be </span>
  <em>
    <span>thought</span>
  </em>
  <span> in the presence of a certain type of being, regardless of the species. A word that to them, its very presence could throw the stars themselves out of balance. A word that enraged monsters, tyrants, crooks, and killers. A word that was a death warrant and they could never forgive.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“No”.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The last admiral of Earth suddenly felt very small and very lonely. </span>
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>
  <strong>
    <span>XXXXX</span>
  </strong>
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The human should have waddled. The Tribune engineer furrowed his brow as he wondered why he didn’t. The approaching Broken wore a big puffy hard-shelled spacesuit, twice the thickness of his body, and with his head so small inside the helmet the engineer thought he might disappear inside. Yet as odd as the spacesuit was, the human </span>
  <em>
    <span>didn’t</span>
  </em>
  <span> waddle. The human moved purposefully and with an easy stride. The Tribune engineer wondered what kind of servos and electronics went into it. It was some kind of powered armor. The human was a few dozen centimeters taller than he would be otherwise.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The Tribune engineer scratched his chin and leaned against his console on the side of the counter. He was in charge of the requisition post for this portion of the shipwomb; if anyone wanted anything, they went through him. He had his little booth on this section of the dock. The dock the </span>
  <em>
    <span>Broken</span>
  </em>
  <span> were intruding on. He glanced out a nearby porthole and sighed. He didn’t know what Column Leader Prime Nanhar was thinking. An alliance with another group made sense, sure, but why were they tolerating that giant eyesore? The ugly cylindrical bulk freighter loomed outside like a tall person in a movie theater.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Their ridiculous fleet had come into the system, and most of them hovered midway into the system around an outer planet. However, one of their bulk freighters had suffered some sort of damage to their shock drive and hauled itself into one of the libation point stations that orbited Shadow World for repairs. Simple enough, but they couldn’t be bothered to be simple, oh no. It was foreign, didn’t share parts with Compact vessels, and he heard the shipwomb supervisors could barely make heads or tails of the new design. Furthermore, the Broken were being obtuse and weren’t giving many details up about the ship, claiming it was “classified”. So not only did the facility have to fabricate new fabrication tools, not only did they have numerous setbacks just by waiting for the humans to give up plans, but they </span>
  <em>
    <span>also</span>
  </em>
  <span> had to tolerate hundreds of human workers of various types monkeying about because they </span>
  <em>
    <span>insisted</span>
  </em>
  <span> that they had to handle things.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Hundreds of human workers who probably didn’t know what they were doing scurried about underfoot, to repair a ship the Shade staff could barely understand because of how primitive it was. Humans just like the one who was approaching.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The Tribune engineer looked back to a few EVA staff on their break around a table behind him, and jerked his head at the approaching human, “Hey guys.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>They made some glances over, then at each other. There were a few scattered grins. The engineer smirked and leaned against the side of the booth. The Broken approached, helmet under one arm, and a toolbox at his side. “I need some nitrogen gas,” he said, his headset speaking for him.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Sorry, all out.” The engineer shrugged.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The Broken technician frowned, “Excuse me?” he jerked his thumb back at the bulkhead, and the vacuum beyond, “Then how’s </span>
  <em>
    <span>anyone</span>
  </em>
  <span> still working?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“They’ve still got gas in their tanks, and there are the fuel ports outside for them. First come, first serve.” EVA packs were refueled at intervals according to the local posting’s scheduling. It was done either inside a station or with refuel ports outside. This just happened to be the Broken’s most convenient refuel point.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The technician glanced back, “You’ve gotta be kidding. What kind of safety regulations are you people working with? Do you people even </span>
  <em>
    <span>have</span>
  </em>
  <span> a union? I mean…”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He tilted his head at some of the post’s equipment, “I see some canisters behind you. What’s in there?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The engineer straightened up, and his gaze narrowed, “Let me put it to you another way, </span>
  <em>
    <span>Broken</span>
  </em>
  <span>, it’s not for sale.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“My ship’s paying for it.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The engineer put his hands on the counter, “It’s </span>
  <em>
    <span>not for sale</span>
  </em>
  <span>.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The Broken looked befuddled, then leaned forward, “Not for sale, huh?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Let me put it simply. </span>
  <em>
    <span>We don’t serve Broken here.</span>
  </em>
  <span> Go to another dock, ape. Or better yet, go home. It’s not safe for you out here in the galaxy.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The Broken tilted his head again, his face contorted in a growing rage. The engineer sneered, “What’re you gonna do, little man? Go on, it’s not like you’d get any work done anyway.” He blinked when the human just stood there. His suit wheezed. The engineer waved, “What’s the matter with you? I said go!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Give me that gas or we’re going to have trouble.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The EVA staff behind the engineer laughed, and the engineer snorted, “What’re you going to do, </span>
  <em>
    <span>Broken</span>
  </em>
  <span>? Blow up another planet?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The technician stepped back, his face oddly tranquil. He began to walk off.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Go on, get outta here! Go back to Rally where you belong!” the engineer shouted after him with a laugh.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The technician stopped for a second and looked back. He seemed to note something the engineer didn’t, then kept going.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The engineer laughed again. He looked back at his fellows, “Ah, clients, y’ know? They never change. Hell, they’re worse out here. At least back home they know their place!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>One of the EVA staff nodded, “I know what you mean. They stroll in here like they own the place like they’re better than us...damn things are just peabrains.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The engineer glanced down to fix something on his boot, then suddenly looked up when the EVA staffer dropped something. He looked behind the engineer in shock. The engineer turned and stumbled back in surprise, falling to the floor. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>When he got back to his feet, he saw the counter surrounded by a semi-circle of five humans. One was the puffy technician, but all the others were </span>
  <em>
    <span>soldiers</span>
  </em>
  <span>. They wore slim body armor spacesuits and carried menacing carbines. The lead one, with two chevrons on her collar, and perhaps only a head shorter than the Tribune in all that armor, walked forward and put her carbine on the counter, “Excuse me, gentlemen, I believe you owe my friend some nitrogen.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“W-What’s going on?” the engineer snapped, “Get outta here! All of you! This is my--”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She grabbed his collar and brought him close to her visor. There were only two dark eyeholes; it was like a horror movie monster. Her voice crackled through a speaker, “I said </span>
  <em>
    <span>nitrogen</span>
  </em>
  <span>, asshole.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The Shade EVA staffer came over and broke the two up, “Hey! He said we were out! Leave him alone!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Those cans are full, Corporal,” the human technician said, and pointed to the equipment near the booth.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“They’re not for your kind,” the staffer snapped, “Go find another dock.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The engineer got his second wind, and he nodded with a gesture at the technician, “This man came up to us, insulted us, then tried to steal our nitrogen. If you help you’ll be an accessory.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The staffer nodded.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The Marine shook her head, “I don’t care who’s feelings got hurt. I don’t give a damn what happened, though I’m gonna go out on a limb and say you just made that up on the spot, all I care about is </span>
  <em>
    <span>you</span>
  </em>
  <span> holding us up. You’re harming productivity and putting lives at risk here. We need that nitrogen gas. And if you can’t give it to us, we’re </span>
  <em>
    <span>taking</span>
  </em>
  <span> it, and reporting to your bosses.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Well, we’ll tell them you threatened us!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“And </span>
  <em>
    <span>we’ll</span>
  </em>
  <span> show them our camera footage. Would you rather get stuck for two days dealing with this, or do you just want to give my friend some goddamn nitrogen gas and </span>
  <em>
    <span>leave him alone</span>
  </em>
  <span>?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>There was a tense standoff. The Tribunes lacked firearms, of course, but arrogance and stupidity always made for one neat package…</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The Tribune engineer snarled, “Alright, you’ll get your damn nitrogen!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He filled up several containers and placed them carefully on the counter. The corporal passed them to the technician, “If that stuff blows up, and if I get any more complaints, we’re coming back here.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Fuck off, Broken,” the staffer snarled, “You got what you came for.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The corporal extended her middle finger at the staffer but gestured for her entourage to follow. The engineer watched them leave, “What kind of Broken </span>
  <em>
    <span>are</span>
  </em>
  <span> they?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>
  <strong>
    <span>XXXXX</span>
  </strong>
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>
  <span>As it turned out, Uvei’s information </span>
  <em>
    <span>had </span>
  </em>
  <span>been slightly out of date. A messenger had gone and come back to the Principality, and while there wasn’t a ghost fleet in the area, there </span>
  <em>
    <span>was</span>
  </em>
  <span> now an Askanj representative available. They met with him immediately. However, while a formal diplomatic team had spoken to the Principality representative, there was a formality to be taken care of.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Moreno’s skin didn’t exactly crawl when she saw the Askanj-</span>
  <em>
    <span>illth</span>
  </em>
  <span> across the conference room, but she did get an unsettled feeling. She knew why the Compact called them “Serpents”. The way the representative moved had her suppress a shiver. Though she expected her movements disturbed him just as much.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He moved forward and stopped an appropriate distance away. For a moment he didn’t know whether to shake her hand or wave. He did the latter, “Good day. Pardon my manners, I am not used to speaking with humans. I trust you’re Rear Admiral Moreno? I would hate to find I’m trying to say hello to the custodian.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Moreno tilted her head, then smiled in the corner of her mouth, “You made a joke. We like that in our friends. Yes, I am Rear Admiral Moreno, good to meet you.” She returned a wave.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The being smiled, “I am Representative Quick to Water. Your representative referred to me as ‘Water’. I think there’s a common translation error…”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Moreno nodded, “Believe me, we know the feeling. In some of our cultures, family names come from professions, Baker, Butcher, Hunter, etc. Meanwhile, in other cultures, we’ve got names that are just ‘son of’. You wouldn’t believe the trouble we had with early computer translators…”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Quick to Water grinned, or did his species equivalent, “Interesting! I shall have to study this later! I’m always fascinated by new species and cultures.” he spread his hands, “As I’m sure you can guess by my presence.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>His eyes flickered down to the stars on her uniform, and to the gold eagle over a breast pocket, just above the stenciled words “</span>
  <em>
    <span>UEC Navy</span>
  </em>
  <span>”. They moved to “</span>
  <em>
    <span>Moreno</span>
  </em>
  <span>” stenciled on the opposite side, then back to her face, “And I see you’re also fascinated by new cultures.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Moreno put her hands behind her back, “I see our diplomatic team did their work well.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“That they did. It was a pleasant surprise to find such competent people out here!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Moreno received daily updates from the diplomatic team. “We pride ourselves on doing things right.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Quick to Water nodded, “I can certainly see that. I’m glad to meet the first human admiral in 2,000 years. It’s a shame I couldn’t meet your president anytime soon…”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“He’s indisposed at the moment,” Moreno said, “I hope I’m good enough.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Quick to Water smiled, “Of course. You led your people to safety, after all. I’m pleased to meet you.” He scratched his head, “It’s not often we get to meet reborn ancient nations, but it </span>
  <em>
    <span>does</span>
  </em>
  <span> happen.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She was glad he wasn’t asking any questions. It was only a little less uncomfortable than saying they were mercenaries, but saying that they’d taken up the mantle of the Confederacy would lead to fewer problems than </span>
  <em>
    <span>being</span>
  </em>
  <span> the Confederacy. Explaining how they survived would be a challenge, and they didn’t really trust these people. But getting the aid of a besieged nation with limited resources meant pulling out the stops. They’d save the black hole story for if they needed it.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Quick to Water hissed slightly in amusement, then said, “Rebels will find records of ancient nations and declare themselves the true successors, but most don’t even get off-planet, let alone this far into deep space. That’s a testament to your abilities, no matter what the Compact says.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Moreno smiled, “Thank you, Mr. Representative. But recovering our true history is one thing, actually surviving is quite another. You’re our...ancestors’ second contact with another nation, and their first contact was hostile.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Quick to Water’s smile faded, “Yes, that is true. I hope we can prove to be better neighbors than they were. We have sent a courier to take the word of your struggles and your assets to my superiors, and I have supreme confidence that they will take you seriously.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Moreno nodded, “It’s fortuitous you were out here already. Why was that?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Quick to Water replied, “I can neither confirm nor deny any deployments, but we usually have representatives who visit some of the Compact’s rebellious elements, at least the ones on the outskirts. Each one means more resources taken from the front and buys us a little more time. Your people, even with your primitive ships, are also a resource we desperately need. Experienced soldiers, no matter how few, can make a difference in this war. Not to mention we always need intelligence. And whatever funds you can provide might keep us from suffering an economic crash from our war effort. Not that we’re close to that mind you, but--”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Don’t worry, I understand,” Moreno nodded, “The UEC had been risking economic collapse before everything went to hell in every sense of the phrase.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The serpentine being chuckled, “Well, here’s hoping your remade nation will survive this time. With a few troop transport ships and some navigation data, we’ll be back home, safe and sound, and we’ll take back your worlds eventually.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Like that’s going to happen.</span>
  </em>
  <span> Moreno didn’t say that out loud of course. If there was a way for the Principality to end the war that included freeing Rally, but if it didn't, they were hardly going to force the issue. There was no one to truly care for the colony but the </span>
  <em>
    <span>Vanguard</span>
  </em>
  <span> and her fleet. They’d have to </span>
  <em>
    <span>make</span>
  </em>
  <span> the Principality care.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She smiled back at the Askanj-</span>
  <em>
    <span>illth</span>
  </em>
  <span> and knew this moment, this little scene captured by a photographer and the chamber’s cameras, whether the records were lovingly preserved or thrown into a sun, would mark a turning point for the human race. There was no escaping history. They would be remembered despite themselves, no matter who wrote the histories. The galaxy may minimize it, but nobody would forget the embarrassment of the last free human beings. Moreno knew they would either nobly save, or meanly lose, the last best hope of Earth.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She just hoped this snake could keep from blabbing about who they were to the Shades.</span>
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>
  <strong>
    <span>XXXXX</span>
  </strong>
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The bar was filled with a quiet tense drunken atmosphere. There were creatures of all shapes and sizes, all inebriated to various degrees. There were uniforms, jumpsuits, and outfits of all sorts, but those that stood out the most were blue or purple. Mostly because those who wore them hadn’t torn their gaze from each other the entire evening.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>There were a handful of Marines, and various assortments of UECN crew and civilian staff. Like any crew in a foreign dock, they’d come in for a drink and some relaxation. Despite the tension with the beings they knew to be in Compact service, some of the humans had made a few Shade friends. They were almost entirely client species that had been conquered since the Fall of Earth, but it did say something hopeful for the human race. However, they stayed away from the Tribunes, and any other member of a ruling species; anyone in the bar with the same silhouette as a shooting range target. The human race may have come a long way, but perhaps there were some older and distasteful things that remained.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The humans shot glares at the Tribunes and Thoughtful. They didn’t know what exactly the problem was, but that didn’t matter to a Ruling Species. Client races </span>
  <em>
    <span>always</span>
  </em>
  <span> had a problem.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span> Nothing had happened yet, pressure was building. Then the relative silence was shattered by a drunken Tribune.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <strong>
    <em>
      <span>Our noble home </span>
    </em>
  </strong>
</p><p>
  <strong>
    <em>
      <span>Planet where the blue flowers blossom </span>
    </em>
  </strong>
</p><p>
  <strong>
    <em>
      <span>Sing a song of joy!</span>
    </em>
  </strong>
  <span>”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The idiot's drunken off-key words were a jolt to the quiet room. It was some obscure Tribune folk song; not that it was necessarily a Compact one, but it was one that always told them they were more “civilized” than other folks. Several of the other Tribunes and their supporters joined in. Those of client races who didn’t know it rolled their eyes or listened politely.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <strong>
    <em>
      <span>May god’s grace always be with us</span>
    </em>
  </strong>
</p><p>
  <strong>
    <em>
      <span>Hail Grolai!</span>
    </em>
  </strong>
</p><p>
  <strong>
    <em>
      <span>Hail to the victory of our home.</span>
    </em>
  </strong>
  <span>”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Abruptly a human voice sang out. An acceptable, though not amazing voice, but human nonetheless.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <strong>
    <em>
      <span>"There's a great and a bloody fight 'round the galaxy tonight </span>
    </em>
  </strong>
</p><p>
  <strong>
    <em>
      <span>And the battle, the bombs and shrapnel reign </span>
    </em>
  </strong>
</p><p>
  <strong>
    <em>
      <span>Doggies told the worlds around they would tear our union down</span>
    </em>
  </strong>
  <span>…"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>People's heads turned, wondering who would dare interrupt another's song. Especially that of a ruling race.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"</span>
  <strong>
    <em>
      <span>But our union's gonna break them slavery chains</span>
    </em>
  </strong>
  <span>," The man sang, as others joined him, "</span>
  <strong>
    <em>
      <span>Our union's gonna break them slavery chains</span>
    </em>
  </strong>
  <span>!"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The Tribunes sang louder over the humans, with the lead gesturing at his fellows.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"</span>
  <strong>
    <em>
      <span>The sublime triumph of our will</span>
    </em>
  </strong>
</p><p>
  <strong>
    <em>
      <span>Spreads throughout the universe</span>
    </em>
  </strong>
</p><p>
  <strong>
    <em>
      <span>Through our passionate ideals </span>
    </em>
  </strong>
</p><p>
  <strong>
    <em>
      <span>May God’s grace always be with us</span>
    </em>
  </strong>
  <span>…”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>As the humans increased their volume, the </span>
  <em>
    <span>aliens</span>
  </em>
  <span> around them joined in.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"</span>
  <strong>
    <em>
      <span>I walked up on a starship in the middle of the sky, </span>
    </em>
  </strong>
</p><p>
  <strong>
    <em>
      <span>Could see every farm and every town </span>
    </em>
  </strong>
</p><p>
  <strong>
    <em>
      <span>I could see all the people across all our worlds </span>
    </em>
  </strong>
</p><p>
  <strong>
    <em>
      <span>That's the union that'll tear those Triarchs down, down, down </span>
    </em>
  </strong>
</p><p>
  <strong>
    <em>
      <span>That's the union that'll tear those fascists down</span>
    </em>
  </strong>
  <span>!"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The Tribune and his friends were drowned out by the grinning humans and aliens around them grinning themselves. The humans were baffled but appreciated it.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The bartender grinned at one of the closest humans, "Hey, I didn't know you fellas knew Whood Guth're!"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"You mean Woody--" the man </span>
  <em>
    <span>woofed</span>
  </em>
  <span> as his friend jammed her elbow into his gut.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"... Guth're, of course!" The woman replied, "great artist, aren't they?"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Yeah, I wouldn't have thought it would get to you people! But you know, the Grasp gets everywhere…"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Is that where it's from?" The woman asked, "Any idea who this guy is, anyway?"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The bartender snorted, "well, nobody knows exactly, but it's gotta be a ruling race, right?"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Right,” The woman chuckled politely and turned forward. The moment of victory was gone. They'd stolen it like they took everything else.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0013"><h2>13. "Of All the Stories, Which Were True and Which Weren't?"</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>“My dear doctor, they’re all true.”<br/>“Even the lies?”<br/>“Especially the lies.”</p><p>- Deep Space Nine, "The Wire"</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Mrowka trudged into her quarters and shrugged off her jacket. She threw it on her chair, then fell face-first onto her bunk. She lay there for a long moment before she slowly sat up and pulled off her boots. She felt jealous of the early spacers for a moment, who just had to wear socks. She pulled herself back onto her bunk, laid back, and rolled onto her chest.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Then of course, right before she could drift off to sleep, the intercom chirped. She sat up and pressed the control, “Captain here.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Ma’am, this is the communications department. The XO wanted me to let you know you have an incoming social call from the </span>
  </em>
  <span>Pious Transgression</span>
  <em>
    <span>. Do you accept?</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>That</span>
  </em>
  <span> wasn’t what she expected. Mrowka shook the tired from her head, “Huh? Social call? From who?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>You have a social call from Ms. Kaitet aboard the </span>
  </em>
  <span>Pious Transgression</span>
  <em>
    <span>.</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Would you repeat that?” Mrowka asked slowly.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Commander Rivera ordered me to tell you that you have a social call from Ms. Kaitet aboard the </span>
  </em>
  <span>Pious Transgression</span>
  <em>
    <span>. Do you accept?</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Mrowka leaned her head against the wall, </span>
  <em>
    <span>Oh, he </span>
  </em>
  <span>did</span>
  <em>
    <span>, did he?</span>
  </em>
  <span> “Crew, this isn’t a joke, is it?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>No ma’am. You have a social call from the Shade battleship. Do you want me to tell her you’re not available?</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Mrowka considered it. But against her better judgment, she shook her head, "Give me five minutes, then put her through."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"</span>
  <em>
    <span>Aye aye. Comms department out.</span>
  </em>
  <span>"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Mrowka sat up, leaned against the wall, and transferred the call to her PDA. She quickly typed in a number and put it to her ear. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>After a moment, someone answered, “</span>
  <em>
    <span>Intelligence department; this is Lieutenant Halverson on duty.</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Lieutenant, this is the captain. I’m getting a call from one of the Shade leaders on a personal channel.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Oh, Captain! Sorry, uh...oh, wait, we just got a message. I haven’t read through the entire email, but the XO wants us to provide you with our services.” </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’ll take ‘em. I’m guessing wiretap and all that jazz?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Affirmative. This could be a big intelligence coup. We will provide guiding questions and suggestions unless you object.</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Mrowka nodded, “I do not.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>You don’t have to follow them to the letter if it may give away our presence. In fact, we recommend that if you can’t, you go with what feels natural. I doubt a...privateer wants to be wiretapped. Not that there are actual wires involved anymore, but you know.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Mrowka glanced at the PDA.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Pardon my humor, ma’am, we’re a bit odd down here.</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, I guessed that. Just do your jobs, we’ve got about two minutes and thirty seconds before she calls.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Aye aye. We’ll be ready.</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Mrowka hung up, then went back to the application for the call. She switched it to speakerphone, stood up, and sat down at her desk. She rubbed her face and rearranged some books and datapads. She grabbed a space pen and wrote something down in a notebook. On her laptop, a text messenger appeared.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Intel dept ready,</span>
  </em>
  <span>” it said.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Mrowka moved her PDA closer and read Halverson’s initial conversation suggestions as they waited for the clock to change. Her PDA chimed, the line clicked, and she spoke, "This is Captain Mrowka speaking."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The husky Tribune voice echoed through the compartment, "</span>
  <em>
    <span>This is Kaitet. Hello, captain. How is your hand?</span>
  </em>
  <span>"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Mrowka blinked and glanced at her right hand. "It's fine. Is there something wrong?"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"</span>
  <em>
    <span>No, I was just concerned. It's good to hear your hand is alright.</span>
  </em>
  <span>"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Mrowka quirked her mouth quizzically at the device, "Ah...I'm fine. Not even a scar. The medic was pissed but nothing serious. Was there something you needed?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>You left in quite a hurry if you don’t recall, and you had no part in further negotiations. And that was almost two weeks ago. I wanted to be sure you weren’t...I don’t know, dead.</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Mrowka quirked her eyebrows once. She certainly had been cut out of negotiations. They’d anticipated that pirates wouldn’t take at least their initial party seriously if it was someone soft-spoken, so Moreno had wanted someone who wouldn’t take any of their nonsense as a first impression. It would also throw them off-balance for their impression of Broken. But the admiral hadn’t exactly been happy with her behavior(</span>
  <em>
    <span>Not that it was my fault…</span>
  </em>
  <span>) and she’d been pulled off any further diplomatic meetings, or at least, anything beyond ship operations. “Well, I’m not dead, if that’s what you’re wondering.” </span>
  <em>
    <span>Wait, has the Compact seen zombies?</span>
  </em>
  
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Kaitet snorted, “</span>
  <em>
    <span>I can guess that.</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>There was a long awkward pause. Mrowka scratched her head, “Is there a reason for your concern?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>We may be privateers, but we’re not savages. I’d say showing genuine concern is what the difference is between us and the Triarchs.</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Mrowka nodded, “The only ‘concern’ I’ve ever gotten from them has been a particle beam through my port side.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>If she thought that would get Kaitet to hang up, she was wrong. “</span>
  <em>
    <span>That’s typical, isn’t it? All our expansion forces are heavily armed, they say for peaceful and self-defense purposes only, even though we use those same warships in interstellar conflict. They bury patterns a lot, but they’re there. And I’d say with our ‘enlightened ideals’, a lot of less advanced races would be a lot better off without us.</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Ask her about that</span>
  </em>
  <span>,” the text messenger advised.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Why do you say that? I thought the Compact always said they needed to be uplifted.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>That’s what they always say, but someone once asked me who I would trust to take care of some farmland on my homeworld; someone who’s lived there for centuries, or someone who just came from space? I might take the gear from the second one, but I’d trust the first to know what the land needs. No matter how ‘civilized’.</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Mrowka frowned. She wanted this strange woman to go away, but at the same time, she wanted to ask a bunch of questions. This was a subject officer training had broached. They had to understand the thinking of why the Compact saw itself as superior. It didn’t occur to the enemy that so many native groups “irrationally” fought them, their history didn’t allow for such patterns to be established. If they learned that client races weren’t as stupid as they thought, they’d say that was because of Compact education, or the rare individuals, not that they were equal. The problem was that the other point of view, that the natives weren’t just foolish, simply didn’t </span>
  <em>
    <span>occur</span>
  </em>
  <span> to them. They always classified any doubt as illogical and emotional stupidity.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>She’s got doubts. Ask her how she figured it out,</span>
  </em>
  <span>” the messenger suggested.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Mrowka was curious herself. How </span>
  <em>
    <span>do </span>
  </em>
  <span>you beat Compact brainwashing? Moreover, and perhaps existentially important...Why the hell was she calling, and why the </span>
  <em>
    <span>hell</span>
  </em>
  <span> wasn’t she asking about Mrowka being a Martian? “So...you aren’t as stuck-up as your cousin is about clients, then?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Clients are the only friends I have left. Most Ruling Race beings don’t want to spend any time around the ‘savage lover’. Even the pirates.</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Mrowka frowned again. “...Is this why you’re calling me?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>What do you mean?</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Mrowka growled, “You don’t want to know me, you’re only calling me because you’re lonely.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>There was a pause on the line.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Mrowka felt a pang of regret. Just a pang. “Kaitet? Hello?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Still nothing. Her device was still connected though.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>She’s still on the line, can detect her breathing and pulse,</span>
  </em>
  <span>” Halverson’s message reported.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Mrowka sighed. “I’m sorry, I’m just not used to Tribunes wanting to speak to me other than to insult me.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Oh no, I understand that,” </span>
  </em>
  <span>Kaitet didn’t sound that torn up, odds were she’d heard worse, “</span>
  <em>
    <span>Understanding is part of why nobody talks to me. My cousin disowned me with the rest of the family right up until he needed something.</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“If you know he’s an asshole, why do you stick with him? Why’d you help him?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>I didn’t have much choice. My organization doesn’t have access to heavy cruisers, let alone a few battleships. Nanhar had access to high-grade weapons and experienced crews, and even if he’s an idiot, he </span>
  </em>
  <span>is</span>
  <em>
    <span> a good tactician. I could supply him with the supplies and parts he needed, and his troops would do the heavy lifting. At least he finally understood part of why I left. And his nephew’s a good kid, I don’t blame him. I figure if I’m doing what I’m doing, it’s for people like him.</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What exactly </span>
  <em>
    <span>are </span>
  </em>
  <span>you doing?” Mrowka asked.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She didn’t say anything for a long moment again. Like no one had ever asked that question. “</span>
  <em>
    <span>Surviving, I guess. I told you I’m from the inner worlds, right? Some people think that’s a good life, but even if it’s comfortable, it’s not right.</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Mrowka was silent. Those words had just come out of a </span>
  <em>
    <span>Tribune’s</span>
  </em>
  <span> mouth. Suddenly she didn’t want her to hang up quite so fast. “How’d you get out here, Katey? This doesn’t seem like the kind of place for an upper-class gal to flee.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>You’re right about that, that’s probably half the reason ruling species think I’m nuts,</span>
  </em>
  <span>” Kaitet replied, “</span>
  <em>
    <span>The other half is if they hear the stories about me.</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“And what stories are those? How’s the Compact </span>
  <em>
    <span>ever</span>
  </em>
  <span> not right? They’re always right, so they say. Your kind doesn’t have anything to worry about, other than a client race getting uppity. Your ships are the best around, your army squashes everything in no time flat. All you have to worry about is whether you’ll be eating lobster or ostrich for dinner. You never see the hard life, you never see behind the scenes, you just spend life in blissful ignorance!” Mrowka was breathing heavily by the end.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>You’re on the right track, Captain,</span>
  </em>
  <span>” Halverson reported in the text messenger.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Kaitet was silent again. “</span>
  <em>
    <span>I guess I was right about you.</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What do you mean?” Mrowka snapped.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>I know one thing’s true, you certainly are from one of the inner worlds.</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Mrowka blinked. She hadn’t even realized what she was saying. “Huh?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>I know that speech. That’s what the off-worlders say to people on ‘developed worlds’.</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Mrowka looked at her PDA. </span>
  <em>
    <span>People are alike all over I guess. But she didn’t say anything about Mars…</span>
  </em>
  <span> “Yeah. I guess so.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>And they’re right, for the most part. But it’s hard to be as ignorant when you kill your best friend and he gets blamed for your mistake.</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Mrowka looked at the device again, “Oh...I’m sorry.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>It was my fault</span>
  </em>
  <span>,” Kaitet spat, “</span>
  <em>
    <span>But they blamed him, just because he was a Steersman.</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What happened?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Does it matter?</span>
  </em>
  <span>” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Kaitet’s roughness surprised even Mrowka. She replied forcefully, “Of course it does, Katey. Those fuckers weren’t in the cockpit, what do they know? You know the truth. Your feelings matter a hell of a lot.” Her eye flicked toward a model of a frigate on a shelf, “Don’t you </span>
  <em>
    <span>dare</span>
  </em>
  <span> let them tell you what you’re feeling. Even the Compact can’t see inside your head.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>It’s not my feelings, it’s</span>
  </em>
  <span>--”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“It was never about you, it’s about fulfilling whatever agenda they have. And if that means running you under, so be it. It wasn’t your fault.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>...How’d you know it was in a cockpit?</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Cockpit, driver’s seat, bar, whatever, it’s an expression.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>And a lucky guess.</span>
  </em>
  <span>" She sighed, "</span>
  <em>
    <span>I came from the Grolai system. My family was rich enough to afford some spacecraft, and a private starship. I even had my own little hopper. I took friends on rides a lot. Even Client friends.</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What does that matter?” Mrowka asked, then added, “I’ve never been to Grolai.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Oh. Well, it’s illegal for clients to even </span>
  </em>
  <span>operate</span>
  <em>
    <span> spacecraft in that system, let alone own one.</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What should </span>
  <em>
    <span>that </span>
  </em>
  <span>matter? So long as they’re not flying…” Mrowka sighed, “You know what, never mind.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Yup.</span>
  </em>
  <span>” Kaitet made a sound of discomfort, “</span>
  <em>
    <span>Heermann died because of me, I </span>
  </em>
  <span>know</span>
  <em>
    <span> he died because of me, but because of the shape of his eyes, that made a difference.</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Mrowka grimaced and rubbed the back of her head, then shook it angrily. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Let her talk,</span>
  </em>
  <span>” her messenger said.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Kaitet grunted again, “</span>
  <em>
    <span>We were doing something stupid. I was flying, Heermann was in the passenger seat. He wasn’t anywhere near the controls. I was doing something stupid, and...well...we ended up dead in space, with radiation leaks, a hull breach, and...well long story short, he was dead when rescue showed up. It was my fault, I was the one flying, it was my stupid move that got us in trouble...I </span>
  </em>
  <span>know</span>
  <em>
    <span> it was my fault, but the court cleared me of all charges and said a Steersman shouldn’t have been flying a spaceship. They said I was a victim in all this, a young Tribune who had been taken advantage of by a dastardly young man who pressured me into doing something stupid.</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Mrowka looked up, “Jesus.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Oh, excuse me, a dastardly </span>
  </em>
  <span>Steersman</span>
  <em>
    <span> young man.</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Of course…” Mrowka grunted.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Kaitet sucked in a breath. She was forcing herself to keep speaking. “</span>
  <em>
    <span>And you know what my family said? They said it was bound to happen, that he was always trouble, that my best friend was probably going to come to a bad end, it was bound to happen eventually...and they said ‘his kind’ were a dime a dozen. Like...like...like he was property or something.</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Mrowka put a hand to her chin. She nodded gravely. “That sounds right. Unfortunately. Why didn’t you listen?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Because Heermann </span>
  </em>
  <span>wasn’t</span>
  <em>
    <span> property. He was my friend. He was my best friend and they threw him under the bus because he happened to be in the vehicle. He wasn’t driving, I was the one flying, but even if he’d survived they’d question and harass him. My family didn’t care that he was my friend. Hell, I don’t even know how many of them knew what they were doing was wrong. Maybe some of them thought it would make me feel better. Maybe that’s the tragedy of the whole story. Maybe it wasn’t them throwing him under the bus, it was the fact that they thought they were </span>
  </em>
  <span>right</span>
  <em>
    <span>.</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Mrowka stopped writing. “They all thought you were wrong. How did you know you were right?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>I just...did.</span>
  </em>
  <span>” Kaitet hesitated. She didn’t seem to expect that question. A hint of hostility rose and faded in her voice, “</span>
  <em>
    <span>Maybe I thought the same thing before...before. But afterward, I couldn’t see things the same way. The court dropped all the charges against me. His family was lucky they stayed out of jail. Everyone tried to move on. Open and shut case. My parents got my ship repaired. But Heermann was still dead, and they didn’t seem to care. A Tribune kid committed suicide in high school, and people at least </span>
  </em>
  <span>talked</span>
  <em>
    <span> about it. Not Heermann. Anyone who ever talked to me about the accident only ever focused on me. And not the man who was so unrecognizable they needed a DNA test to identify the body. I killed him, and they just forgot about him.</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Mrowka studied the speaker for a long moment. “How old were you when all this happened?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>My early twenties. This was about twenty years ago. I was still in tertiary school. I think that’s another reason why things changed.</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I guess even Commie colleges aren’t that shitty. The bar’s not very high though. </span>
  </em>
  <span>Mrowka had nightmare images of how bad they might be. She shuddered at the thought that they might have fraternities.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>What did you think of confessors growing up?</span>
  </em>
  <span>” Kaitet asked suddenly.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Uh…” Mrowka typed out “</span>
  <em>
    <span>confessor</span>
  </em>
  <span>” in the text messenger.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Priest/political officer, confessional/guidance counselor/therapist,</span>
  </em>
  <span>” Halverson typed rapidly in quick bursts as the seconds ticked by. There was a reason she’d gotten their help.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“...I was always polite to them.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Kaitet laughed, “</span>
  <em>
    <span>Even I couldn’t always manage that after I lost Heermann. Calmness and tranquility never got us a damn thing. Blind service and obedience never got us any inventions, never got us anywhere. Anger and emotions are what keep us going, what keeps us alive. But for a while, I didn’t think of that. I shouted at them, but they always seemed to find ways to knock down my arguments..</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Mrowka glanced at her messenger.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Consistent with reports of Confessor techniques,</span>
  </em>
  <span>” Halverson reported. The intelligence department must’ve been going crazy down there rushing to try and find all this data.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span> “What made you doubt them?” Mrowka asked.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>I was miserable for a while. Nobody wanted to talk to the lady crying over her pet client. But a little while after the...I met Heermann’s friends. Through them, I met other client race people. They...suggested some things I hadn’t considered. Like how I hadn’t been threatened with behavioral implants by the confessors until I got into a fight and was charged with assault. And one of Heermann’s friends had a sibling who’d gotten them as a ten-year-old for fighting a cop who was called on him for not getting out of his seat in primary school.</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Mrowka winced. She remembered Senator--President Pearce’s reaction to learning about that. She was horrified on a personal level, but couldn’t imagine the impact it would have on a parent. She’d read so many dystopias and some non-fictional accounts of horror stories like that from across history. Cultists and child soldiers were drugged up to key them up to fight and to keep them compliant. These bastards were using the same techniques for everyday people. There was a huge difference between healthy medical diagnoses to treat genuine illnesses, physical or mental, and...this. To see your kid come out of an operating room, never allowed to be themselves because there was a machine crawling in their brain. A machine that shocked them whenever their brain did something completely natural… She shuddered.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Kaitet ground her teeth, “</span>
  <em>
    <span>You can say they brainwashed me, but I wouldn’t call ‘considering another point of view’ as brainwashing. Listening to others sounds more like what they made us </span>
  </em>
  <span>think </span>
  <em>
    <span>the Compact was growing up. That’s what they say we were, but we weren’t. The Triarchs like us sleeping and ignorant. They like it when we’re under them because it keeps their old system in power where they’re on top. Cops don’t exactly listen to that, though.</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’m sorry, what?” Mrowka asked in surprise.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Oh, yeah. I started participating in protests, sending letters, and all that. Try being the tallest person at a protest and </span>
  </em>
  <span>not</span>
  <em>
    <span> get singled out…</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Mrowka’s mouth twitched at the thought of some newspaper with a photo of Kaitet in her twenties among a bunch of protesters. “So you became a political activist? That’s awfully radical for a Tribune, isn’t it? I thought complaining was for clients.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>That’s what the cops said. At first, they just thought we were noisy, as usual. But they started getting mad, and so did my family. I won’t bore you with the details. It was getting pretty dangerous, and it’s only because of my family’s influence that I wasn’t put in jail for years. They weren’t supportive from the start, but they were on the verge of disowning me by the end. Nanhar was one of those who wasn’t talking to me. Old bastard. I cut them loose before they had the chance to do the same to me. I stole a bunch of account information, grabbed our starship, and never looked back. I have no idea how I made it out but turns out pirates appreciate you if you have a lot of money and a logistics degree.</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Mrowka smiled a little, “Wait, repeat that last part? How exactly does a bureaucrat get this high in a pirate group?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Kaitet chuckled, “</span>
  <em>
    <span>You’d be surprised how few bureaucrats get out here. The Shade Flotilla may not have the best supplies or the most, but I make sure we’re </span>
  </em>
  <span>well</span>
  <em>
    <span>-supplied and everyone gets their fair share. I made sure everyone got paid, and the books were open for everyone to see. So when our first boss got killed in a bad deal and the guy who was left tried to take over, the crew sided with me instead.</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Hell of a way to get a promotion. I didn’t think they took their bookkeepers that seriously.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>As I said, they don’t get many out here. We’ve provided services to some other groups just to help deal with their books. Some of these guys even have trouble with algebra.</span>
  </em>
  <span>” Kaitet chuckled a bit.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“So you became head of a small pirate group, how’d you get wrapped up in a political revolution?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Seventeen years is a long time, but somehow my cousin tracked me down. The bastard wanted my help, said he learned something, that the Compact needed to change. Gods above, his face. The high and mighty column leader prime had to come crawling to a pirate exec to get the ammo and parts he needs for his revolution…</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Mrowka chuckled, “Yeah, I can see that. Pirate exec, you say? Why not queen?"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"</span>
  <em>
    <span>I'm a chief executive pirate, not a monarchist, Captain.</span>
  </em>
  <span>"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>They laughed, and there was a long pause. There weren’t any updates from the intelligence department.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"</span>
  <em>
    <span>So, what's your story?</span>
  </em>
  <span>" Kaitet asked suddenly.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Mrowka blinked. “I told you.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Right. Martian.</span>
  </em>
  <span>" She paused, "</span>
  <em>
    <span>But really, what's your story?</span>
  </em>
  <span>"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Mrowka blinked again. </span>
  <em>
    <span>She didn’t believe me.</span>
  </em>
  <span> She had a strange feeling for a long moment, a mixture of cynicism and surprise. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Wait a minute. She thinks I'm a pirate. </span>
  </em>
  <span>She facepalmed. Everything fell into place. These people weren't worried about her being a Martian, they weren't worried about any of that. Because pirates lie. </span>
  <em>
    <span>What the hell am I doing here? I'm a battlewagon commander, not a spy!</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Mrowka leaned back. She looked to the side at the plush toy on a shelf. It was a small ball of fabric with a pair of large eyes, a beak-like mouth, and several tentacles. It was old but well cared for. The tag read “</span>
  <em>
    <span>Made in Arsia Mons, Mars</span>
  </em>
  <span>”. Most kids on Mars had a Ula plush growing up. They were as prolific as teddy bears, a piece of Martian history. One of these plushies had been the first stuffed animal made on another planet, with Martian grown cotton, and the first exported back to Earth. Mrowka looked at the ceiling. What could she say? She </span>
  <em>
    <span>did </span>
  </em>
  <span>tell her. But to this woman-- </span>
  <em>
    <span>Tribune</span>
  </em>
  <span>, she was another pirate. To this privateer, Mrowka was one of her people. She realized that may have been right in more ways than one. She finally replied, "I'm from an inner world.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"</span>
  <em>
    <span>Well, that was obvious,</span>
  </em>
  <span>" Kaitet chuckled, "</span>
  <em>
    <span>Which one was it?</span>
  </em>
  <span>"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Ah, nowhere special. My family was well-off. We had some shares in some of the early industry, and so we had some status."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"</span>
  <em>
    <span>I thought we shared some common ground when we first met. That's interesting.</span>
  </em>
  <span>"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Mrowka smiled a little, "You're not in Space Force uniform, so that makes me happy already."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"</span>
  <em>
    <span>Were you close to anyone in your family?</span>
  </em>
  <span>"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Mrowka smiled sadly, "My parents, my aunts, my sister...oh, her kids were the sweetest things. They always liked to see me when I got back from deployment."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"</span>
  <em>
    <span>This was your adoptive family, right? I didn't realize how close some of them got…</span>
  </em>
  <span>"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Mrowka reached out a hand for a moment, ready to hang up.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"</span>
  <em>
    <span>Play along,</span>
  </em>
  <span>" the Intel messenger scrolled out, as if they'd read her mind.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She forcibly pulled her hand back, "Yeah. Close family."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"</span>
  <em>
    <span>If you don't mind me asking, what species were they? Were they Tribunes? Thoughtful?</span>
  </em>
  <span>"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"I do mind. They're gone now, it doesn't matter."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"</span>
  <em>
    <span>Oh... I'm sorry Captain. I didn't...uh...How long were you in the Space Force?</span>
  </em>
  <span>"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Mrowka's anger simmered back down, "Ten years."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Kaitet sensed something was still wrong, "</span>
  <em>
    <span>did you have anyone you cared about back home?</span>
  </em>
  <span>"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Nothing but exes."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>There was silence for a moment. "</span>
  <em>
    <span>What did you do before the Space Force? Tertiary school?"</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Yeah. I was…"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Her messenger flashed, "T</span>
  <em>
    <span>ell her the truth. Not everything obviously, just enough.</span>
  </em>
  <span>"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"I was in the starship business. I was an engineer. Nothing exciting, especially back when I was in the job. When…” She cleared her throat, “Well, I enlisted in, shall we say, a fit of patriotic fervor? All I wanted to do was do my job and get back to doing what I do best, but...things changed.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>A lot of former Space Force staff I know talk about that. What happened?</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Mrowka glanced at the frigate model again, “Something terrible.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The messenger alerted her that someone was typing. For a few nerve-wracking seconds, there was nothing. “</span>
  <em>
    <span>Stand by; draw it out.</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Mrowka grimaced, “It was...it was a mess.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>What kind of mess</span>
  </em>
  <span>?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Mrowka's hand reached out to hang up again. The crash of metal rang through her ears. She wanted to be anywhere else, wanted to just hang up and go curl up in bed. Why was she telling this stranger anything? This </span>
  <em>
    <span>Tribune</span>
  </em>
  <span>? All she could see was that frigate on her desk in port, brand-new and ready for action.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>A quote from a long-ago literary class flickered through her mind. “</span>
  <em>
    <span>...The Channel Fleet, which hovered in an extended line, steam up and ready for action, across the Thames estuary during the course of the Martian conquest, vigilant and yet powerless to prevent it.</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>And a horrible memory ran over it.</span>
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Mayday, Mayday, Mayday! Raiders, raiders, raiders!</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>
  <span>That crash of metal rang through her head again. The worst and sweetest sound she’d ever heard in her life. She wasn’t a coward. She took her hand off the PDA. “I went against orders for a good cause.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>What kind of cause</span>
  </em>
  <span>?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I couldn’t just watch something happen,” Mrowka muttered.</span>
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Biloxi </span>
  <em>
    <span>to </span>
  </em>
  <span>Thunder Child</span>
  <em>
    <span>, hold position! Repeat, hold position! </span>
  </em>
  <span>Thunder Child,</span>
  <em>
    <span> respond!</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The echo almost made the captain flinch. “I couldn’t just watch, and I couldn’t plug my ears. I had to do something. Everything was going to hell, they were everywhere, but the officers said we couldn’t do anything, we didn’t have the ships to spare…” Her voice hardened, “but if I had another chance I’d do the same thing a thousand times over. I couldn’t let them win again. That one time, that one day, I couldn’t let them do it again.” She closed her eyes. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Gods. And they punished you for that?</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I managed to make it out with my rank intact. It would’ve been a PR nightmare if I didn’t. I wasn’t the only one to disobey orders anyway, there were a bunch of ships that charged in, all us rear-echelon staff hadn’t been bloodied, so we didn’t really think. We didn't know it was a trap. But we couldn’t see…”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Her text messenger flashed, “</span>
  <em>
    <span>Blame the Triarchs. Don’t say admiralty. Play up the oppressed angle.</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“...I couldn’t see the Triarchs in the same way. If a ruling species officer had done the same thing, they probably would’ve given them a planet. But to them, I was just a...a human who had done something right for once. They were just looking for someone to blame. They grabbed a bunch of other people who did the same thing, those of us who survived. They wanted someone to blame for </span>
  <em>
    <span>their</span>
  </em>
  <span> complacency.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>I guess they didn’t like you leaving, either. Is that why I haven’t heard of you?</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Maybe she sensed something was wrong, and that Mrowka wasn’t being 100% truthful. They were pirates, after all. There was reason to doubt Kaitet’s word as well. But Mrowka doubted she was lying entirely. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Hell, maybe she’s being as truthful as I am.</span>
  </em>
  <span> “Yeah, probably. But I was a bit too busy running to ogle my wanted posters.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Kaitet chuckled. "</span>
  <em>
    <span>That's a rarity, am I right?</span>
  </em>
  <span>"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Mrowka played along, "Isn't it?"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>They shared a laugh and fell silent for a long moment again. Then Kaitet spoke, "</span>
  <em>
    <span>Uh, Captain? If it wouldn't be too out of line, what's your first name? Humans have those, right?"</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Mrowka didn't answer for a moment. Captain Long and Captain Hudgens were the only people left in the world who would even consider using her first name. It felt like it belonged to someone else. It didn't belong to the warrior who'd survived a decade of war. It belonged to the short engineer on Mars. The short engineer standing at a drawing board contemplating the latest amphibious shuttle design. The short engineer with a lunch and the latest science fiction novel sitting tantalizingly at the edge of her desk. For a moment the captain couldn't consolidate that face with that name. "Milena. My name's Milena Mrowka."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"</span>
  <em>
    <span>Milena. It was good to talk to you, but I have to go. Take care of that hand.</span>
  </em>
  <span>"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Mrowka's voice faltered, "It was...good to speak to you too, Katey. See you when I see you."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The call ended, and Mrowka was left in her silent quarters. After about a minute, her PDA rang. She picked it up, "Did you get anything useful out of there, lieutenant?"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"</span>
  <em>
    <span>Yes, ma'am,</span>
  </em>
  <span>" Halverson said, "</span>
  <em>
    <span>We've got all that background on her. We'll run it through what intel we have, but from what we can gather, she at least believed she was telling the truth. Or at least half-truths.</span>
  </em>
  <span>"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Mrowka nodded, then said, "I see."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"</span>
  <em>
    <span>There are numerous groups in the Compact that advocate for client races, but they're not very loud or effective enough for a large-scale impact. I'd say in the system she's from, they crack down harder on those groups than others. She could be a useful asset, considering her rather liberal opinions…</span>
  </em>
  <span>"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Very good, lieutenant." Mrowka yawned, and her eyes tried to force themselves closed.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"</span>
  <em>
    <span>Ah... I'll forward you a full report in the morning, ma'am.</span>
  </em>
  <span>"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Thank you, lieutenant. Apologies, this is good work, I'm just exhausted."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>No apologies necessary.</span>
  </em>
  <span>" He paused, "</span>
  <em>
    <span>Ma’am, with all due respect...are you alright?</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’m fine, Lieutenant." Mrowka yawned again, "Just exhausted."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Halverson paused, then spoke in a lower voice, "</span>
  <em>
    <span>What I mean is…</span>
  </em>
  <span>"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Thank you, lieutenant. I'm fine. I think she just wanted to make a friend. She's still just a Tribune. Now if you'll excuse me, I need to get some sleep. Dismissed."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"</span>
  <em>
    <span>Aye aye. Good night, Captain.</span>
  </em>
  <span>"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Mrowka put the PDA on an adhesive patch on the wall near the head of her bunk and climbed back in. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Still just a Tribune, eh?</span>
  </em>
  <span> Katey was a nicer sort than most. She was pretty genuine for a pirate. Mrowka had expected something more like the smuggler. At the same time, Mrowka wondered how she was even talking this amicably to one who represented the destruction of her home. People who looked just like Kaitet had destroyed everything and walked away whistling. How could she even consider friendship? </span>
  <em>
    <span>Was </span>
  </em>
  <span>she considering friendship?</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Well, she's not wearing their uniform, and she hasn't insulted me yet. And it was nice of her to ask about my hand.</span>
  </em>
  <span> Funny, that was probably more decent treatment than anyone on Rally ever got. Mrowka turned out the lights and was asleep in an instant. Her PDA flashed dimly with a calendar reminder. Something was scheduled in two weeks.</span>
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>
  <strong>
    <span>XXXXX</span>
  </strong>
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“...So it happened more than just when we met you! That doesn’t mean I make a </span>
  <em>
    <span>habit</span>
  </em>
  <span> of it…!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Uvei shook his head at his smaller companion, “</span>
  <em>
    <span>But </span>
  </em>
  <span>you do it often enough you need to make it a special procedure, enough you want to </span>
  <em>
    <span>name</span>
  </em>
  <span> it?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Okafor shrugged, “It doesn’t hurt to be prepared. Look, sometimes you get pinned down in a space station, you're close to the outer hull, and you need a way to escape. It's like a boarding action in reverse!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>They walked through a corridor aboard the </span>
  <em>
    <span>Vanguard</span>
  </em>
  <span>, returning from one of the observation domes. They were escorted by a fireteam of marines, two in front, and two behind them. Most personnel were cleared from the passage during this time of day, though a few did walk by with dirty looks at the Tribune.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Well, I can understand that, but what kind of janissary work were you up to that </span>
  <em>
    <span>needed </span>
  </em>
  <span>that so often you needed to name it?” Uvei grinned, “Who's Jack-in-the-box anyway--?” Suddenly the Tribune stopped and made a gagging sound. He coughed into his arm harshly.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Okafor tilted her head, “You alright?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Uvei held up a hand, took a breath, then hacked into his arm again. After a moment, he cleared his throat and said hoarsely, “Sorry, swallowed the wrong way…”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span> Okafor looked at him. “You choked but you weren’t drinking anything.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yeah…?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“The big bad Tribune choked on his own spit.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yes…?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Okafor blinked, “The big bad Tribune </span>
  <em>
    <span>choked on his own spit</span>
  </em>
  <span>.” Then she laughed. “Oh my god…”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What? Don’t humans do that?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Choke on our spit? Of course we do!” Okafor kept laughing, “I...I just didn’t know the big bad </span>
  <em>
    <span>Tribunes</span>
  </em>
  <span> did it too! Jeez, you freaks can shake off bullets, but you can still choke! Hah!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Uvei tried to hide a sheepish grin, “Well...it...come on!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I mean, I knew you could choke, but I didn’t know you could just choke on your spit! Jeez, I can’t believe I didn’t realize it sooner!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Uvei laughed too, “I guess we’re not as tough as propaganda makes us sound.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“We won’t hold it against you.” Corporal Foster in front of them checked an intersection as she spoke, and then checked her watch. "Lieutenant?"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Okafor checked hers, "I think we're okay. We should be there before the party breaks. We don't want </span>
  <em>
    <span>you </span>
  </em>
  <span>anywhere near that place when they leave."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"What is this party, anyway?" Uvei asked, "you people have been cryptic about it lately and haven't explained it." For some reason, whenever he asked about it, his human captors always twitched. It was a sensitive subject.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Maybe if we hadn't taken so long in the observation deck we'd be out of the way of it…" Foster grumbled.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Hey, that comet operation was only going to happen once," the Tribune objected, "don't tell me humans don't enjoy watching that sort of thing."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"It got us some nice pictures…" the other lead Marine said to Foster.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Don't help him, Talon."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"I'm not! I'm just saying he has a point! Sure he's a puppy, but even puppies make good points!"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Okay, it was cool, but we enjoy them a bit more when we're not cutting it this close…" Okafor muttered to Uvei.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Uvei suddenly cocked his head, "Uh, pardon my ignorance, but I seem to be hearing a large crowd."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The group stopped, and Okafor put a hand on the nearest bulkhead. "You've got good ears, big guy. Corporal? Do you have another route for us?"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Yes ma'am. Let's turn around and take a left."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>They doubled back to the intersection and took the correct corridor. Uvei scratched his head with his handcuffed right hand, "Is there a problem with telling me about this celebration? Who am I going to tell? Surely you can tell me why we're galavanting around the ship, at the very least."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Okafor sighed. She looked thoughtful for a moment, then opened her mouth to speak. Before she could say anything, her watch chirped at the same instant the PA suddenly snapped on with a song. "</span>
  <strong>
    <em>
      <span>Goodbye to Sol and Terra, farewell to moonlight and sands…</span>
    </em>
  </strong>
  <span>" The humans stiffened and looked at the ceiling as the music filtered through the corridors. "</span>
  <strong>
    <em>
      <span>Deep greens and blues are the colors you use to haunt me wherever I land, in ways I don't understand…</span>
    </em>
  </strong>
  <span>"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Foster, almost unconsciously, raised a hand to her helmet and gave a very loose salute.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Happy Unification Day, everybody," Okafor said quietly. A Marine behind them made a snorting sound and coughed. The other hummed along to the tune.</span>
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Far away on a distant world, there was a mountain range that reached around to connect two sides of a massive canyon across hundreds of kilometers at the neck of an area that might have been called an isthmus had it been filled with water. On the western edge of the range, among numerous smaller mountains, there was a deep canyon shaped like a quarter moon, that arced away from it. The western side of the canyon took a step up which was contained within a taller gorge. That step had a distinct flat area of land, but “flat” didn’t mean it wasn’t hilly. The local sun had set. A dazzling array of stars and the center of the galaxy rose above this cold, dusty place. There was nothing remarkable about this step. No wind could be felt, no sound, and there were scant few resources. There was nothing but dust. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>But if you looked very closely, with satellite imagery and radar, you might be able to uncover something deep in the dust. Paths. Paths that spread outward in five directions from the step and weaved through mountain passes.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It was 2200 hours in Geneva.</span>
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Aboard the last United Earth Confederacy fleet, each ship put music on their PAs. There were songs from </span>
  <em>
    <span>The Green Hills of Earth</span>
  </em>
  <span>, and </span>
  <em>
    <span>God Lives on Terra</span>
  </em>
  <span>, to </span>
  <em>
    <span>Amazing Grace</span>
  </em>
  <span> and various national anthems. Snack boards, rec rooms, cafeterias, and quarters all went nuts in a variety of ways, from quiet acknowledgments to rowdy partying.</span>
</p><p>
  <span> It was Unification Day, a day of celebration and remembrance. It was the anniversary of the end of the last open war between human beings, and the founding of the United Earth Confederacy. This was the day the coalitions of disparate colonies and Earth forces finally ended the conflict and put aside their differences under this singular coalition. At least that was the sentimentality. As always throughout history there were localized conflicts, skirmishes, distant factions, pirates...but Unification Day was viewed in the same light as Armistice Day and VE Day. The bloodshed had come to an end for the most part. The armies would be coming home, the factories converted to tractors instead of tanks, and they could turn their gaze toward the future, instead of just the next week.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>So many years ago, this day signaled the time for the converted freighters, the early warships, and the vast armies, to burn retrograde and return home. To go back to their trade routes and pass luxuries instead of ammunition. For weary souls who had wandered so far from home to turn back at last. For those mighty warships to be put to rest. For the United Earth Confederacy to make sure they would never fight again. Perhaps, in some minds, to put aside the concept of war for good. So many years ago, before the Compact came, it was a day of peace, celebration, and relief. It was a holiday of joy and memory. Now it was more bittersweet. They were grieving, they were angry, and were willing to lash out at anything. Pressure had been building in the weeks since they’d showed up in this system.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Okafor looked at her watch and cursed. “Let’s go.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“So what’s Unification Day mean, then? Is it some Rally holiday?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Not if the Commies have anything to say about it…</span>
  </em>
  <span> Okafor thought, and pushed the Tribune along, “Come on!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Alright, alright! I’m not wanted more than usual, gotcha.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Okafor smiled a little despite herself. “Ah, don’t worry, we’ll keep you safe.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“...safe from what? That new crowd?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What new crowd?” Okafor asked.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>At that moment, they turned the corner, and the Marines halted. "Lieutenant?” Foster whispered, “We've got trouble." </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Okafor looked ahead. People in Confederate Navy and Army uniforms milled about further down the corridor. Some swayed back and forth, and others elbowed each other and pointed at the party. They were all some degree of drunk. They must've come from the party areas elsewhere on the </span>
  <em>
    <span>Vanguard</span>
  </em>
  <span>. And the pressure had reached critical.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Orders, Lieutenant?" Foster hissed.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>A plastic bottle flew out from the crowd, bounced off the ceiling, then clattered to the deck pathetically.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Foster flicked her carbine's safety and closed the visor of her helmet, "You guys, clear this corridor!" The crowd shuffled. At first, it seemed like they might disperse.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Hey, leatherneck! What's the big idea?" A figure moved forward, and swayed on his feet, "What're you up to?"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Clear this corridor, you Army pukes!" Foster snapped.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The Confederate Army trooper swayed against his friends, "Hey, Lieutenant! The jarhead speak for ya?"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Clear the passage, people," Okafor called out, "You're all a bit tipsy at the moment."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"You know why we're here," a sailor called out.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Fellas?" Foster asked, and her subordinates readied their weapons.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Corporal!" Okafor hissed.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The army trooper stumbled forward, and laughed, "What're you gonna do? Fire on other </span>
  <em>
    <span>people</span>
  </em>
  <span>?" There were scattered chuckles, but it was evident the crowd was only held together by the two speakers.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"No, but I've got five cans of morph gas, and trust me, it is a </span>
  <em>
    <span>bitch </span>
  </em>
  <span>to wake up with a hangover </span>
  <em>
    <span>and</span>
  </em>
  <span> a gas headache!" Foster retorted with a grin.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Hey...hey! The devil dog's siding with the other dogs!" Someone slurred out.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Clear out, trench monkeys! You too, squids!" Foster snapped.</span>
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Suddenly, a powerful laugh split the air. Everyone turned to see Okafor laughing her head off, and rubbing the bridge of her nose. She looked at the others, as if there were a joke they hadn't heard, "Really?"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Everyone stared at her. She only laughed harder, "</span>
  <em>
    <span>Really?</span>
  </em>
  <span>"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She jerked a thumb back at Uvei, "Him? All of you really want to string </span>
  <em>
    <span>him</span>
  </em>
  <span> up?" That got her laughing again, "Of all the people you could've picked, you want </span>
  <em>
    <span>him?</span>
  </em>
  <span>"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Even Uvei was looking at her. She glanced back at him and smirked, "Look at these people! They want </span>
  <em>
    <span>you</span>
  </em>
  <span>!"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Uvei blinked, then furrowed his brow at the crowd, "</span>
  <em>
    <span>Me?</span>
  </em>
  <span> Whatever for?"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"I know! Pff…" Okafor kept laughing, "Guys, if you string him up, the Commies are just going to shake your hands. Trust me, he's not worth it."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Lieutenant, all you gotta do is step aside…" the trooper muttered, and that got Okafor laughing again.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Look, guys, this is </span>
  <em>
    <span>not </span>
  </em>
  <span>the one for you. He's not worth it. Trust me, he's a mess. This would just be embarrassing, he just choked on his own spit…"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"That's right, I--" as if on cue, Uvei started coughing again. There were scattered chuckles.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Okafor rubbed her brow, "Oh god he did it again...you see what I mean? He's pathetic, I don't even know why I keep him around…but you know, the admiral likes him, I can't fathom why, but you never know…"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She threw up her hands, "Guys, this would just be a waste of time, and </span>
  <em>
    <span>boring</span>
  </em>
  <span>! I mean at times this guy's like a midget! Just go on back to your quarters or wherever and we'll pretend we didn't see you." With that, she gestured to the corporal, who led the way through the press of people.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The army trooper sputtered, then grabbed her arm, "What're you doing? Protecting him?"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Okafor paused, then laughed again, "Please, I'm a squid! As far as I know," she paused to pick something out of her teeth, "...there aren't any dogfaces </span>
  <em>
    <span>or</span>
  </em>
  <span> puppies that can swim out very far…"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She narrowed her gaze, "...Am I right?"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He released her. Once they were out of sight of the crowd, Uvei grinned at Okafor, “Excellent performance.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Same to you. Nice work choking on your spit twice in a row, but hold on a sec,” she pulled out her PDA, and put it to her ear, “Security, this is Lieutenant Okafor on deck fifteen. We’ve got trouble.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>
  <strong>
    <span>XXXXX</span>
  </strong>
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Commander Afolabi strode quickly through the corridors of the Shade drydock, with a Marine lieutenant beside her, and two squads of Marines in their wake. They moved with purpose, the Marines loaded for bear in crowd control. They were on the verge of civil unrest aboard this station. They'd anticipated the Unification Day celebrations would cause some trouble, but nothing like what they were experiencing. The fleet was faced with dramatic amounts of civil unrest, mainly of the drunken riot sort. They’d had to send infantry to supplement the riot control police. Nobody had gotten seriously hurt yet, but that wasn’t the auxiliary officer’s problem. Afolabi was the one responsible for the crews aboard the Shade drydock repairing the </span>
  <em>
    <span>Arthur C Clarke</span>
  </em>
  <span>, civilian and military. The ones interacting the most with the aliens. Most of them weren't frontline military. They were military dockworkers, government contractors, or civilians.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>A Marine comms technician sped up to speak from behind them, “Ma’am? Sir? Company HQ says the riots haven't started here yet, but reports of fights and arguments are still increasing. No serious casualties.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You see why I needed your people?” Afolabi asked the lieutenant bitterly.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The lieutenant shrugged, “We’re equipped for dealing with these sorts of riots, yeah, but I can’t help but feel cops might have kept the peace a bit better.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Afolabi grimaced, “Our workers should’ve kept their heads down, but I don’t trust cops or Shade security. We barely have enough actual cops left in the fleet, not to mention none of those pigs in their right minds would volunteer to try and talk down a doggy without combat armor. And your captain agrees with me.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Apologies ma’am, it’s not my place. I defer to the captain’s judgment,” the lieutenant replied, referring to the Marine company commander.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Afolabi nodded. A significant amount of the tension was between humans and the ruling species, but they were just the catalyst, not the cause. There were plenty of already-existing disputes between clients and the ruling species. They were only enhanced by the tension from the human workers. “As you should, Lieutenant. Staff Sergeant, how far to Central Three?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The platoon sergeant behind them checked a PDA strapped to their wrist, “Less than a hundred meters to the accessway, but we’ve got some heat signatures around the corner. Looks like another crowd.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Afolabi rolled her eyes. She was furious. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Goddamn dogs are useless!</span>
  </em>
  <span> She and the Marines marched toward one of the drydock’s central corridors, Central Three. A crowd was gathering there, and they’d gotten word it was the location of some agitator ringleaders. Apparently, there was some organization to the unrest on this station, not just drunkenness (though there was a healthy amount of that). And the Tribune security officer who was supposed to help her out with this was "indisposed". </span>
  <em>
    <span>Motherfucker…</span>
  </em>
  <span>They couldn't let the admiral down like this, they had to nip it in the bud. And Afolabi liked to take care of things personally. Not to mention her people would trust her face more than the Marines.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Raised voices and clattering came from up ahead, and Afolabi cursed again. The drydock command center said they didn’t know where the security officer, Chief Shok Herex Icea, was and were quite dismissive of Afolabi’s concerns about the unrest. </span>
  <em>
    <span>It’s not as if </span>
  </em>
  <span>mobile phones</span>
  <em>
    <span> exist!</span>
  </em>
  <span> The Marines were probably going to have to do everything themselves.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>As that thought entered Afolabi’s head, they turned a corner into a maintenance corridor and found the crowd and the source of the noise. A group of Shade workers and another UEC staff in a tense standoff. Shouts filled the air, indiscernible from one another, with jeers and insults flung in both directions. Keeping the groups apart was a detachment of security personnel, led by the missing security chief. Shok was shouting at one Tribune, with her hand on his collar. Clearly, there wasn't enough security to deal with the situation. They were about to tear each other apart. Already, several on both sides were nursing injuries, black eyes, bruises, scratches. There were a few injured limbs. Several were incapacitated. One human was being tended to on the deck, and a Tribune sat in a corner and cradled an arm that looked like it was about to fall apart.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>All the noise died down as the twenty-odd Marines emerged from the hall and formed up. Afolabi looked at the Marine lieutenant, “Help ‘em out.” The Marines went to push the humans back. The platoon’s corpsman accompanying them rushed to the human on the deck. Afolabi stalked up to the security chief, “What the hell is going on?” she snapped. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“About time you showed up!” Shok snapped back, “We’re barely keeping a lid on this thing as it is!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I said ‘what’s going on’?” Afolabi demanded, “Why are they all out here? Who’s supposed to be in that engineering space?” she pointed at a large hatch on one side of the corridor behind the Shade workers, meant to let small vehicles into a medium-sized engineering space.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“They are,” Shok replied, “But they can’t exactly go in anymore!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Why not? What the hell is going on?!” There was a flurry of voices from both parties. Afolabi cursed, and roared, “One at a time!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Shok held up her hands, “Quiet down!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“They attacked us!” A Shade worker snarled. The one with the broken arm spat incoherently.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>They </span>
  </em>
  <span>nearly strangled Hira!” a human shouted, and pointed at the human on the deck. Three hefted tools and a piece of pipe and stood protectively in front of their wounded comrade.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Why did they attack you?” Shok asked her staff.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“We </span>
  <em>
    <span>told</span>
  </em>
  <span> you! They’re Broken, and they used a sonic weapon!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What sonic weapon?” Afolabi demanded.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>One of the Shade workers wordlessly turned to the door to the engineering space pushed a control, and the hatch opened slightly. A very loud shrill sound of varying tones erupted, and all the Tribunes present clutched their ears. Afolabi winced. One of the humans grinned. The worker closed the door again, and with a rub at her ear, glared, “</span>
  <em>
    <span>That</span>
  </em>
  <span>’s why.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Afolabi looked at the door, then back at her, “...You mean bagpipes?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The Shades just stared. Afolabi glared at her workers, then tilted her head, "Wait a minute, that didn't sound right…"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Of course it didn't! What are you talking about? Are bagpipes some kind of weapon?" Shok demanded.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Afolabi shook her head, "They're a musical instrument!" She glared at the other humans, "...But that didn't sound like normal bagpipes! What did you do?"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Nothing! Honest!" One of the workers cried defensively.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Then why is it giving us all a headache?" Shok snarled.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"I dunno, puppy! Maybe it's your big sensitive ears!"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Why you--!" A Tribune skidded to a halt when rifles were raised.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"It's just </span>
  <em>
    <span>Black Bear</span>
  </em>
  <span> you fucking philistines!" Someone shouted.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Afolabi personally stalked past the Marines, walked into the crowd of workers, and grabbed the last speaker by his jacket, "You! What's going on?"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>By his outfit, the man was an electrical engineer. He was covered in soot and grease from crawling around conduits and maintenance access ways. He grinned, "How should I know?"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Afolabi hauled him out of the crowd and threw into the arms of a Marine, "Get him out of here!" There were shouts from the other workers, and Afolabi roared, "</span>
  <em>
    <span>All of you shut your damn mouths!</span>
  </em>
  <span>"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Shok pointed at the prisoner being hauled away, "Is that the attacker?"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"He's a jackass is what he is."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Shok's brow furrowed, "A...pack animal?"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Idiot. He's an idiot.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Shok pointed again, “So hand him over.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Afolabi scowled.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What, so you can rip him apart?” a human worker demanded, “You’re not getting any of us, Pluto!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’m gonna rip </span>
  <em>
    <span>you</span>
  </em>
  <span> apart, ya damn Broken! Shut your mouth!” A Shade worker barked back.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Fuck you, asshole!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Broken bitch!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Mutt bastard!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Stupid ape!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The Marines and security personnel shoved the crews back, and both sides’ superiors roared commands for them to calm down. Afolabi turned to Shok, “We’re not turning </span>
  <em>
    <span>anyone</span>
  </em>
  <span> over to you.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Her face twisted, “You damned client! So you’re just going to let him go after everything he’s done?!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Afolabi threw up her hands, “So he hurt your ears, that's no reason to </span>
  <em>
    <span>execute </span>
  </em>
  <span>him! And we’re </span>
  <em>
    <span>not </span>
  </em>
  <span>just letting him go!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Shok threw her arm out, “Hurt our ears? That wasn’t music, whatever it was!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Afolabi groaned, “He must’ve messed with the frequencies so it would hurt you instead of us. No wonder it sounded weird…”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“And you’re still going to let him go,” Shok snarled, “You damned clients, always looking out for yourselves!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“We’re </span>
  <em>
    <span>not </span>
  </em>
  <span>going to let him go, we’re going to figure out what happened. Do you want to do that without us? Be my guest. I’m sure wherever he hid whatever is making that sound is </span>
  <em>
    <span>easy</span>
  </em>
  <span> for a Tribune to access. He probably hid it in some maintenance conduit.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Shok stepped forward. Her lips curled back from her teeth. Afolabi had noted that gesture more than once. What did it mean? “Give him to us. He’ll show us where it is! It’s our right!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Your right?” Afolabi asked innocently. She raised a hand, “Lieutenant!” The Marines turned around and readied their carbines. The human workers urged them on, and Afolabi grinned. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Shok took a step back. “You wouldn’t dare.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Shocky, don’t test me. They’ve got riot gear, but they can just as easily switch to PPGs,” Afolabi studied Shok’s jumpsuit, “You think you can tank those rounds, asshole?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Shok blew air out her nose, “You arrogant little </span>
  <em>
    <span>shit</span>
  </em>
  <span>. You’ll pay for this.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Afolabi chuckled, “</span>
  <em>
    <span>Try it</span>
  </em>
  <span>. I’ve survived a </span>
  <em>
    <span>lot</span>
  </em>
  <span> worse.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Their dispute was interrupted by a distant </span>
  <em>
    <span>thoom</span>
  </em>
  <span> from far above their heads. Two Shade workers emerge from another doorway down the maintenance hallway. One carried the other in a fireman’s lift, and at the sight of the Shade security, fell to their knees. “There’s a riot! The Broken are rioting!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Shok pulled out her radio, “Shok to Control. What’s going on up there?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>We’ve got riots all over the station! Clients and Ruling races-- everybody’s fighting each other. Central One isn’t reporting in.</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The Marine comm technician listened to her headset, “Lieutenant! They’re right, the balloon’s going up! Someone in Central One says a hover loader just plowed into a wall at top speed,” they listened for a moment, “They’ve got a riot, </span>
  <em>
    <span>and</span>
  </em>
  <span> they’re throwing maintenance vehicles at each other! It’s a demolition derby up there! The fuel from the loader went up and lit a bunch of fires, and there’s serious hull damage. They’re worried there’s going to be a hull breach!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Afolabi’s blood ran cold. All arguments and conversations stopped. Even the corpsman looked up.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Shok growled, and glared at Afolabi, “What are you idiots up to?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“How the fuck should I know? We barely cleared </span>
  <em>
    <span>this </span>
  </em>
  <span>up! I’ve been </span>
  <em>
    <span>trying </span>
  </em>
  <span>to tell you about this for two days, but </span>
  <em>
    <span>somebody’s</span>
  </em>
  <span> been avoiding me, and </span>
  <em>
    <span>somebody</span>
  </em>
  <span> hasn’t been listening!” Afolabi pointed at the lieutenant, “Have some of your people stay here and keep the workers back! The rest of your troops will come with me!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Broken! Wait a minute!” Shok snapped, “This is our dock! You’re not going anywhere--”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Afolabi whirled on her, “Who’s gonna stop me? </span>
  <em>
    <span>You, </span>
  </em>
  <span>Fido? Last I checked we all breathe the same air, and the only way we’re going to fix Central One is securing Central Three first!” The corridors were stacked vertically on either side of the drydock, with alternating numbers on either side. Central One was right over their heads, above Central Three. They'd have to get through the first riot to get to the damaged sector, “If you want to help keep your people from getting killed, come on! Otherwise, </span>
  <em>
    <span>stay out of the way</span>
  </em>
  <span>!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Afolabi turned and ran in the direction of the distant thundering. She’d worked on docks for most of her life. She’d seen these sorts of fights before. It didn’t matter if they were Novan goofballs or Shade racists, dockworkers were all the same. Riots were hell on a space station. They’d need every able body they had to deal with Central One, and either evacuate people or repair it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The Marines and Tribunes made it to the accessway. They couldn’t wait for an elevator. They took the stairs two at a time in a thunderous charge, scrambling madly to reach the next Central corridor before it was too late. The lieutenant tripped on the slightly-too-big steps, but was undeterred and moved faster.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Exhausted, the party emerged into Central Three. The central corridors were voluminous areas of the shipyard where large cargo, machinery, numbers of personnel, vehicles, and even small ships were shifted between major areas of the yard. They were the widest and longest open areas on the station for that very reason. That made a perfect ground to fight in.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Workers of all different shapes and sizes waged a massive brawl that may have at one point had distinctive lines but had since devolved into a giant mess. Humans ganged up on Tribunes, while client workers tackled a human to the ground. A Tribune sprinted by at full speed from a small horde of client engineers. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Humans only made up a chunk of the tension. Several clients and ruling races already had grievances with each other that were just touched off by... whatever the humans started. </span>
  <em>
    <span>If</span>
  </em>
  <span> they started it.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“For fuck’s sake…” Afolabi moaned, and reached for a respirator, “Lieutenant! We don’t have time for this! Break out the morph gas, and stop these fights!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The lieutenant nodded, then looked at her, “Morph gas? Ma’am, what about the aliens?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Afolabi cursed again, "Alright, do it the old fashioned way!"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The Marine did as ordered, and sent most of his troops to start breaking up fights. They formed a loose line and slowly marched forward. A sergeant turned on his helmet loudspeaker and gave orders to surrender or disperse.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Shok rushed up behind them, “Gods above, I knew this would happen!” She ordered her security guards into the fray, and glared at the commander, “This is what happens when you mix races, you fuckers!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>A projectile whirled through the air and smashed into the bulkhead behind them. Shok and Afolabi moved behind a supply pallet for cover, while the lieutenant and comms technician shouted down a drunken Tribune who'd gotten around the security barrier.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shok grabbed her radio, “This is Shok! I need sleepers in Central Three!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Chief Shok? We heard reports, but we thought</span>
  </em>
  <span>--”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Shut up and get us some sleepers in here! And get more security down here!” She put the radio down and glared at Afolabi, “Look what you did, Broken!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Me? You’re the one who wanted to lynch someone because your </span>
  <em>
    <span>widdle ears got hurt</span>
  </em>
  <span>!” Afolabi snapped back.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’d watch that tone if I were you, Broken,” Afolabi hissed through the din of shouts and noise, “I </span>
  <em>
    <span>know</span>
  </em>
  <span> your people started this!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’d watch </span>
  <em>
    <span>yours</span>
  </em>
  <span>, puppy! Drop that holier-than-thou attitude!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What’s your problem, Broken?” Shok snarled.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Afolabi pounded on the Tribune’s chest with the bottom of her fist. She knew that was like a hard tap with a finger to them, “You are, you racist bitch! </span>
  <em>
    <span>Your</span>
  </em>
  <span> people started this mess!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Shok backhanded her. The lieutenant turned around in time to see the commander fall to the deck, and Shok advanced rapidly to hit her again. Afolabi’s front was covered in blood, her face a mess of pain. She scrambled for her holster, not a moment to lose, pulled out her needler, and aimed it. “Don’t do it! Don’t fucking move!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Shok sneered, “You don’t have the --!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The needler sputtered, and the back of the Tribune’s right shoulder exploded in a shower of gore and hyper-velocity rounds; she arched backward in a shower of blood.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The gunshot triggered screams throughout the hangar. Instantly a bunch of the brawlers hit the deck or dove for cover.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Everything happened very fast. A security guard whirled and fired his sidearm at a Marine. He knocked her down, but her friend ripped his chest open with a volley of pulsed plasma rounds.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The human lieutenant was flung back by a shot right to the chest and sat up to see a very shocked security guard check his small sidearm before being gunned down by the comm technician.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Orders were shouted. No one could make out anything concrete. All they knew was that shots had been fired. The brawlers hugged the deck as the guards and Marines duked it out over their heads. While the guards had numbers on their side, their weapons were mostly soft-target low-caliber sidearms, designed for fighting cloth and flesh, not penetration. The Marines had no such problems.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The lieutenant rolled over to the still-prone commander, who still pointed her sidearm at where Shok had stood. "Commander, come on!"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>A security guard popped up to fire at them, but the lieutenant quickly reacted and blew their head off, "Come on!"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Afolabi nodded quickly and followed him to cover behind a parked vehicle. It was a bloodbath. They dodged precision Marine shots and wild security blasts. Afolabi dove behind the vehicle and checked her sidearm. The lieutenant jumped in next to her, "Ma'am! Orders?"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Afolabi looked at him, then behind him, “Look out!” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>A Tribune appeared out of nowhere. She knocked the comm technician’s rifle out of her hands. The lieutenant raised his rifle, only for a quartet of human workers to drag the Tribune down and savagely beat him.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The Marines were outnumbered, but they had the edge in weaponry and combat experience. Several unlucky Marines were hurt or killed with their obsolete armor, but not enough to make a difference. They swiftly dealt with the security guards. The survivors, and any of the workers who'd sided with them, quickly threw up their hands.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>One security officer’s head exploded. "Hold your fire," a sergeant roared, "Hold your fire!" A number of the workers bolted then, and guards ran with them.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The private's eyes widened and he took his hand off his rifle, "Sergeant, I-- I just--"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"I don't wanna hear it! Get them under control!" The sergeant snarled. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The lieutenant looked at Afolabi. She walked back to and stood over the supervisor's prone form, her weapon still out. The female Tribune was still breathing. She was holding pressure on the wound and cursing. “Commander, orders?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Afolabi was covered in her own blood. Her face stung. She looked at the field of bodies. Marines and mostly security guards, wounded and dead, littered the deck. One Marine clutched her stomach and groped for a wound. A Tribune convulsed in a pool of blood. Two client workers heaved a corpse off one of their friends. Cries of pain, curses, and shrieks of fear reached her ears. “We need to contact the ship. Let them know what happened. Tell the captain...tell your captain we need reinforcements down here immediately.”</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0014"><h2>14. 41 Shots</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>"It ain't no secret you can get killed just for living..."</p><p>- Bruce Springsteen</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>The shipwomb in which the </span>
  <em>
    <span>Arthur C Clarke</span>
  </em>
  <span> sat, part of Shadow World’s L4 point stations, was surrounded by every Shade vessel with a gun in the vicinity of the planet. The </span>
  <em>
    <span>Suffren</span>
  </em>
  <span> hovered protectively over it. On both sides railgun gunports were open, energy batteries unhoused from their bays, and sensors picked out targets for missile launch systems. Angry transmissions flicked back and forth between the comm arrays. The shipwomb’s access to the rest of the L4 stations had been cut off. It was already isolated by design, but any umbilicals, cargo corridors, or any connections were closed and bulkheads sealed. The only way allowed in was by shuttle. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Midway between the ships and the space station was a cloud of auxiliary craft. They were a mixture of janissary assault boats, transport shuttles, and a pack of Confederate Marine Corps dropships. They were in constant motion, zipped back and forth in orbit, and fired maneuvering thrusters rather than weapons. They instead charged at one another in a giant game of chicken, daring the other to make a move. Pilots shouted abuse in a dozen languages. Targeting systems flashed constantly, “</span>
  <em>
    <span>LOCK-ON/DANGER: CLOSE</span>
  </em>
  <span>”.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Bravo 22's pilot cursed as her proximity sensors howled. She fired RCS thrusters and barely avoided an assault shuttle zipping by. The Marines were lucky to be strapped in behind her in the passenger bay. She chinned her radio, "</span>
  <em>
    <span>Suffren</span>
  </em>
  <span>, Stickybeak! We're keeping them away from the dock but we can't get through them. Every time we try and maneuver they block it! Request weapons free!"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Stickybeak, </span>
  </em>
  <span>Suffren</span>
  <em>
    <span>. Do not fire unless fired upon. Repeat do not fire unless fired upon.</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The other shuttle pilot cursed as his scopes warbled. The Janissaries rattled in their harnesses as something flew through the passenger bay. "</span>
  <em>
    <span>Respectful Assertion, </span>
  </em>
  <span>Bison! We're keeping them away from the shipwomb but we can't get through! They're blocking us everywhere! Request permission to fire!"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Bison</span>
  </em>
  <span>, Respectful Assertion</span>
  <em>
    <span>. Do not fire first. Repeat do not fire first. They have to make the first move.</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Aboard the dock, the rioting continued in fits and starts. While in some sectors they had stopped from exhaustion or hadn't even started fighting, in others they ran amok in brutal close-quarters hand-to-hand combat. Tribunes fought with their claws, humans smashed alien faces with crowbars and wrenches, Workers bashed with their bare hands, the Hesitant wrestled with Pedlars on the deck, and Prelates pursued targets with enthusiasm. Workers dove to cover whenever Marines engaged security personnel. Sometimes it would even turn into a three-way battle with the Janissaries stationed aboard the shipwomb. Janissaries despised the Marines, and the security guards were a lot of staff who’d served with the Shades long before Nanhar’s forces joined up. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The time lag between the </span>
  <em>
    <span>Vanguard</span>
  </em>
  <span> and the </span>
  <em>
    <span>Pious Transgression</span>
  </em>
  <span> was only about ten to twenty minutes, but it was enough to make communications inconvenient. Captain Long was a good officer; he knew what Moreno would want, and had no time to wait for orders to come past the light lag. They would not start a war on a mistake. The </span>
  <em>
    <span>Respectful Assertion’s</span>
  </em>
  <span> commander likewise knew that Nanhar would not approve of an unprovoked space battle. Without confirmation, they wouldn’t fire either. They ordered their troops to apprehend any of their soldiers who disobeyed orders. Communications to the station were limited, but once word of the shooting got to the ships outside, Shade and “Blue Avian” naval officers were clear; “</span>
  <em>
    <span>Do not fire.</span>
  </em>
  <span>” The Marine captain protecting the UEC workers ordered a ceasefire, as did the Janissary commander and the remaining security chiefs.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>This resulted in a stalemate inside and outside the station. Without reinforcements, military and law enforcement could barely keep the facility under control. They had to fend for themselves. They wouldn’t work together. Alarms blared all over the station. The medical bays were overwhelmed. Understaffed fire crews isolated compartments or retreated from flames near Central One. Higher-level dock authorities hunkered down to wait until it blew over and sealed compartments until repairs could be affected. It wasn't cowardice(mostly). It was emergency training. Senior staff and average workers did the same in areas that lost pressure. Every spacer knows to get out of a leaky compartment and seal it. A number of the supervisors fought desperately to coordinate the repair efforts.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The station divided itself into Marine controlled and security/janissary controlled sectors, isolated or connected. Whether that was deliberate or by coincidence, no one could say. The two(or three depending on the time of day) sectors focused on containing the riots rather than fighting each other once the orders came down. They did their best with loudspeakers, and when that didn’t work, with sticks, dazzlers, crowd control gases, doing their best to avoid severe tactics. But without reinforcements or cooperation, they didn’t have the staff to handle everyone. A gas that worked on Pedlars and humans didn’t work on Tribunes and Workers. They still had to fend for themselves, and they couldn’t afford to wait until the Powers That Be stopped arguing outside. The bulkheads wouldn’t last that long.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Commander Afolabi, covered in her own blood, led a gang of Marines and dockworkers of all varieties to Central One. Casualties littered the deck, and people were still brawling. Gantries, ladders, and equipment lay in ruins throughout the corridor, either knocked over or destroyed. The hover loader they’d heard earlier was in pieces under a huge dent in the bulkhead the shape of the vehicle’s nose. Open flames roared in a trail from it, as well as amongst abandoned equipment and several overturned vehicles. Automated fire suppression had failed. The fire crews were retreating or involved in the fighting.</span>
</p><p>
  <span> The maintenance vehicles were going at it further down the corridor, or even right above them if they had hover capabilities. An EVA pod threw itself at a hover forklift directly opposite Afolabi and her party. It was like trying to get two repelling magnets to touch; they could do it after some effort. Scores of marks and scratches on the walls, ceiling, and floor told how hard they’d tried. Air pressure was dropping, which meant there was a leak, but there hadn’t been a full hull breach. Yet.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Afolabi held up a megaphone, "Attention! Attention! Stand down! Stand down! This corridor is badly damaged. This corridor is going to be vacuum within the next hour if we don’t do anything. I need you all to calm down and at least stop hitting each other! Back away from each other, move away from the vehicles, and get out from under the hovercraft!"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Some isolated fights continued, but for the most part, the crowd backed away from each other. A few of the vehicles without pressurized canopies reversed, halted, or swerved to avoid each other. Several Marines rushed over to help the isolated fights, and a handful ran to hijack the vehicles still fighting. The hover vehicles still hit each other, a spectacle just overhead from the left to the right. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Afolabi spoke again, “Casualties! Who's not dead? Sound off!" Several people, client, human, or Ruling, lifted their arms or let out moans. "Alright, if you can walk, get to this hatch behind us! If you can carry something, carry your buddy! If you don't have a buddy, find one! You'd better have a broken arm if you're not helping someone! Anyone who's able-bodied forms up with the sergeant over there! </span>
  <em>
    <span>Get out from under the damn pods</span>
  </em>
  <span>!"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The workers got into motion as she stalked over to a control booth that was a bit too tall for her. She looked through the window to see a Thoughtful crouched inside. She knocked on the window, "Hey, you still have power?" The Thoughtful shook as they nodded, and Afolabi hit the door with the flat of her hand, "Come </span>
  <em>
    <span>on </span>
  </em>
  <span>then!"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The Thoughtful carefully unlocked the small door, opened it, and flinched as the EVA pod and forklift struck each other, then the wall. Afolabi stuck her foot in the door before they could slam it shut, and gestured to the control panel, “Command override, man! Get those idiots to stop fighting!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“But--I can’t control them all from here! This is only supposed to be for one pod!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I don’t need </span>
  <em>
    <span>you </span>
  </em>
  <span>to control one of them, there’s more than one booth, right?” Afolabi gestured to several control booths further down the corridor, most still with their operators inside like this one, “I need your people to freeze them all so they’ll stop! Can you do that?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The Thoughtful looked at her, then nodded rapidly. They pulled out their keys to activate the control console and engaged remote override systems. They grabbed a radio mike, “This is Booth Four! Everyone pick a pod and shut it down!” They glanced at Afolabi, “...Supervisor’s orders!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The forklift, in another forward charge, suddenly went full reverse, as the EVA pod halted in midair. The clatter of machinery was reduced to a dull roar in the other two directions. Afolabi nodded curtly, “Good. I need a status report from all those vehicles ASAP.” She turned back toward the crowd. The wounded were being moved out toward the hatch and the nearest secure compartment. Able-bodied workers gathered into clusters here and there, mostly by species or uniform, and glared at the others. Her ears popped, and she growled. She grabbed the megaphone again, “Listen up! Do you feel that in your ears? You all </span>
  <em>
    <span>know</span>
  </em>
  <span> what that is! That’s the first thing we learned before liftoff! We’ve got major hull damage! We can kill each other later, but right now we’ve gotta stop the leaks! I need everyone with EVA gear to get to the locks and repair damage to the outer hull. I need anyone with repair equipment to find the leaks in here. I want everyone with firefighter gear or experience putting out the flames. Everyone else, get more wounded out, help find the leaks or anything else either myself or another supervisor tells you! Just follow your ears, or whatever the hell tells you there’s a pressure leak! Remember your training, this isn’t new, half of you probably learned this in pre-school!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The Shade personnel was a little hesitant, but as ears popped, the fires roared, and the hull groaned, most defaulted to </span>
  <em>
    <span>someone</span>
  </em>
  <span> giving them a job no matter who or what they were. The urgency of the situation set in and nobody was making new plans. All they had was training. The firefighters retrieved lost equipment and barked orders. More personnel climbed into fireproof suits and followed their orders. A group of workers went over to nearby storage areas and pulled out emergency vehicles to help deal with the flames and locate survivors. Lifting vehicles dug through the wreckage or removed flammable materials. Staff slapped down adhesives and sealant, anything to keep the precious atmosphere from escaping.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Stop dawdling over there! Get that projector into place!” Afolabi barked over the megaphone, gesturing to a crew with an emergency force field projector near the hover loader that started the fire. They dropped the device, engaged the maglocks, and one hit a series of controls. A vibration went through the air around the dent in the bulkhead just in time for it to tear itself open. The hole was big enough to fit a motorcycle through, but the crew breathed a sigh of relief as the projector held.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Breach secure...ma’am!” the Pedlar crew leader said, his voice trailing off as he realized who(or what) held the megaphone.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Good work. Now get more projectors!” Afolabi ordered. She ignored their gaze and walked back to the lieutenant. “Lieutenant, I need you to clear a path to the </span>
  <em>
    <span>Clarke</span>
  </em>
  <span>’s docking arms. We need to take all our wounded aboard, I don’t want their medics killing anyone accidentally.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yes, ma’am--” the lieutenant paused. “What do you mean accidentally?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“How many of their docs have seen a human? They don’t know what looks right! How can they tell between a pale person and someone who’s bled out? I don’t care what tech they have, at least our docs know how many toes someone needs!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yes ma’am...uh…” the lieutenant scratched the back of his neck, “What about the aliens?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Afolabi’s hand twitched. The sound of her needler was burned into her mind. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Chuff...Chuff...Chuff…</span>
  </em>
  <span> “Send anyone with a broken leg to the medical bays in this dump. Post Marines along the path to the </span>
  <em>
    <span>Clarke</span>
  </em>
  <span>. We don’t need the jammies to come in shooting.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yes ma’am. Um...What about the puppy chief? If she gets loose, they might decide to start shooting again.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Afolabi snapped out an order at more staff, then glanced back, “Have the corpsman bandage her up, have another puppy make sure she won’t die, then keep her and some of her staff close by.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Hostages, ma’am?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Insurance.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>
  <strong>
    <span>XXXXX</span>
  </strong>
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Admiral Moreno’s only outward sign of anxiety was her foot tapping slowly on the deck. She wanted nothing more than to take the rest of the squadron in and get their people back. But the </span>
  <em>
    <span>Pious Transgression</span>
  </em>
  <span> loomed large on their holotanks in real-time communications range. They couldn’t leave them, and there wasn’t much they could do anyway.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Thus, rather than charging in guns blazing demanding their people back, Moreno was sitting with one member of the diplomatic team in the </span>
  <em>
    <span>Vanguard’s</span>
  </em>
  <span> briefing room. Ambassador Mason was one of the few personnel they had who had any experience in dealing with “foreign” affairs; he’d dealt with the handful of worlds that had distanced themselves from the Confederacy before the war. It was striking what they used to consider foreign.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The diplomat scratched his head nervously, “Admiral, I’m sorry, are you </span>
  <em>
    <span>sure </span>
  </em>
  <span>you won't cause an incident?"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Moreno suppressed a sigh, "Yes, Mr. Mason, I’m sure I won’t cause an incident. That's the third time you've asked me."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Mason grimaced, "Well, Captain Mrowka nearly caused a fight. Neither of you is trained for this and…"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Moreno looked at him and crossed her arms, "The captain isn't exactly a diplomat, and neither am I. But I do have experience in these situations. I've had my fair share of negotiations with pirates and the independent colonies.” She grimaced herself, “...Usually in situations like these, unfortunately. Don’t worry, I won't get in your way."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Thank you,” Mason scratched his head again, “I’m sorry, I just--”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Nothing to apologize for. I understand what you’re saying,” Moreno nodded.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Mason nodded back, “The Shades are sensitive people.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“So am I,” Moreno narrowed her gaze.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Mason closed his mouth. There wasn’t much that needed to be said, was there?</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The intercom clicked, “</span>
  <em>
    <span>We’re receiving a transmission from the </span>
  </em>
  <span>Pious Transgression</span>
  <em>
    <span>.</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Put it through, please,” Moreno said and turned to the viewscreen. The screen snapped on to show a pair of Tribunes in a room dissimilar, though not quite unlike their briefing room. One wore the uniform of a Compact Column Leader Prime, the other the uniform of a Shade Flotilla officer.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Column Leader Prime Nanhar, Ms. Kaitet,” Mr. Mason greeted, and imitated a Compact wave, “This is Rear Admiral Nieves Moreno.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Moreno nodded politely. All sorts of feelings welled up inside her. Hatred of Nanhar’s uniform, hatred of their circumstances, and the loss of their people. They didn’t know how many were trapped on that station, and how many might be dead. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Those are contractors for god’s sake! They didn’t sign up for this. </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Kaitet had her arms crossed and returned Moreno’s gaze. So did Nanhar. For once his foul mood was at least semi-justified. "</span>
  <em>
    <span>Admiral Moreno, how nice to finally meet you. I'm afraid we must dispense with pleasantries, however, because I have but one question</span>
  </em>
  <span>," Kaitet released a heavy breath through her teeth, "</span>
  <em>
    <span>What in the world</span>
  </em>
  
  <em>
    <span>are your people thinking?</span>
  </em>
  <span>"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"I’m not sure, Ms. Kaitet," Moreno growled, "We know just as much as you do."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"</span>
  <em>
    <span>Broken, people are dead!</span>
  </em>
  <span>" Nanhar snapped.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Yes, people are dead," Mason said loudly, "And plenty more are wounded. We all have casualties. With everything going the way it is, can we </span>
  <em>
    <span>please</span>
  </em>
  <span> be civil?"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"</span>
  <em>
    <span>Don't take that tone with me, Broken,</span>
  </em>
  <span>" Nanhar snarled, “</span>
  <em>
    <span>Your people murdered ours in cold blood, and are refusing to submit.</span>
  </em>
  <span>” He took a breath, and smiled at Moreno, in a possible attempt to appear diplomatic, “</span>
  <em>
    <span>Ms. Moreno, you’re a reasonable woman. Surely you respect the rule of authority. We don’t want any more lives lost. Would you kindly tell your criminal friends to stand down so that we may take them into custody? This would go so much smoother if they would simply cooperate.</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Moreno fixed a cold gaze on him, “I respect the rule of law. Calling them criminals, first of all, does nothing to make us cooperate. Secondly, I will tell them to stand down and release the hostages into your custody…"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Nanhar's smile that was a leer grew.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"...But only on the condition that our people are allowed to be taken into custody by our forces."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Nanhar froze, “</span>
  <em>
    <span>You had best watch your tone, Broken. Did you not hear what I said?</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I did. Did you hear what the ambassador said?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Are you being smart with me?</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Moreno grimaced, “Ms. Kaitet, who am I negotiating with here?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>You’re negotiating with me, Admiral Moreno</span>
  </em>
  <span>,” the executive pirate said roughly, and glared at her cousin. She hissed, “</span>
  <em>
    <span>Nanhar, let me handle this.</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>You heard what she said --!</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Kaitet rolled her eyes, “</span>
  <em>
    <span>Nanhar this is what got us into this mess, so if you would kindly…</span>
  </em>
  <span>” She whispered something in his ear that finally got him to back off for at least a few seconds. The Tribune sighed and returned her attention to the humans. She ground her teeth, and her hands fidgeted together. “</span>
  <em>
    <span>Now, Ms. Moreno…</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I would prefer to be called Admiral,” Moreno said.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Kaitet was in a barely-controlled state of anger that reflected the admiral's, “</span>
  <em>
    <span>Pardon me. </span>
  </em>
  <span>Admiral </span>
  <em>
    <span>Moreno, this is a very difficult situation, and regardless of either of our proclivities toward the parties involved come to some sort of agreement. From the looks of things, your people opened fire first. We want to see justice done.</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Even if they </span>
  <em>
    <span>fired</span>
  </em>
  <span> first, from our reports, we don’t exactly know how the riots started. As far as we can tell, it was a fist-fight that got out of hand,” Mason said.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Kaitet nodded, “</span>
  <em>
    <span>Yes. It seems we’ve had tension boiling for some time. We have reports of factions forming, various client and ruling races are all fighting each other.</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Moreno nodded with as much politeness as she could muster, “You must know we can’t trust your records unless we hear Commander Afolabi’s side of the story first.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Mason spoke up, “We want to see justice done, but I will say that we are dubious of leaving either of our people in the other’s care. There is far too high a chance for a conflict of interest, and we are afraid that you will simply kill our people without a fair trial. This is nothing personal, this is a precaution.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>And you can understand that we’re afraid you’re lying too,</span>
  </em>
  <span>” Nanhar pointed out, “</span>
  <em>
    <span>We don’t know if you’re just hiding them.</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Even if he was racist, he wasn’t a </span>
  <em>
    <span>total</span>
  </em>
  <span> idiot. Moreno had to admit sometimes he made a point.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Kaitet nodded, “</span>
  <em>
    <span>That’s a good point. Can we be certain you’re not just going to hide your people?</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Can we be certain you won’t hide yours?” Mason countered.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Kaitet grimaced, “</span>
  <em>
    <span>I suppose we don’t have a choice but to trust each other.</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Nanhar snarled, “</span>
  <em>
    <span>Kaitet, what about our troops? Will they accept this? They’ve been calling for blood.</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>They’ll accept it if you tell them,</span>
  </em>
  <span>” Kaitet hissed, then looked back at the screen, “</span>
  <em>
    <span>Admiral Moren, before your troops leave, we respectfully request that you turn over copies of your helmet camera footage before there’s a chance it could be edited.</span>
  </em>
  <span>” She quickly added, “</span>
  <em>
    <span>It’s a precaution, Admiral, nothing personal, we’ve just learned to be careful.</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Mason nodded, “And we want similar concessions. We want our people back and recordings from your side of the story. We’d suggest a court with representatives from both our respective groups in equal numbers for judge and jury, to prevent conflict of interest.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Kaitet dipped her head again, “</span>
  <em>
    <span>That sounds reasonable. We don’t want anyone else killed.</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Of course, none of this will be possible until we can get reinforcements in there to control the riots,” said Mason, “Can we agree on an appropriate balance of reinforcements? Then we can see about telling people to surrender.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Nanhar muttered something, and Kaitet snapped something else at him. “</span>
  <em>
    <span>Kaitet--</span>
  </em>
  <span>!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The line cut for almost a full minute before Kaitet came back on. “...</span>
  <em>
    <span>Are those terms agreeable, Admiral</span>
  </em>
  <span>?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Moreno leaned back in her seat. Her back was numb. She rubbed at it and thought. The enemy-- the Shades held all the cards here. The </span>
  <em>
    <span>Vanguard</span>
  </em>
  <span> could put up a fight, but that was it. She couldn’t </span>
  <em>
    <span>win</span>
  </em>
  <span> a fight. They were being generous. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Either Kaitet has a soft spot for us or they’re this desperate.</span>
  </em>
  <span> "That is agreeable."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The transmission cut and Moreno released her grip on the armrests. Her hands were white knuckles. She </span>
  <em>
    <span>had </span>
  </em>
  <span>to talk to Afolabi.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>There was a knock on the hatchway. Moreno walked over and pulled the hatch open to see Commander Rivera standing there. “Admiral, the president wishes to speak with you. He says it's urgent.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Moreno rubbed her eyes, “Ah, thank you, Commander. How urgent is it?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Very. He’s right over there.” Rivera gently tilted his head.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Moreno leaned out into the corridor and kept her eyes from bugging out. President Pearce and his entourage stood there down the corridor some distance from the elevator. Pearce stood in a casual suit with his weight on one foot, the other tapping impatiently. There were no others with him beyond a handful of lightly-armed guards, their eyes sweeping the corridor as if threats might pop out of the insulation. Any other aides must’ve been left on the other side of the elevator. Moreno nodded to Rivera, “You’re dismissed, Commander. Thanks.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Aye, ma’am.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Moreno stepped out of the briefing room and walked over to the president. She forgot he’d been aboard for a visit. “Mr. President.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Pearce did not look happy. His short greying hair was disheveled. He always seemed to age two days faster than everyone else. Pearce was almost a head taller than the admiral when they stood next to one another. That was typically the case with the older UECN staff. The youngest crew and civilians were always taller. “Rear Admiral Moreno. Please join me in your briefing room.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Ah...yes sir.” She swept her hand back and gestured to the briefing room. Mason stepped outside just in time.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Pearce glanced at him, “Mr. Mason, would you join us, please?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Sure, Mr. President.” The three reentered the briefing room, and Mason went over to a beverage table. “Mr. President, do you want any coffee?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“No thank you, Mr. Mason.” Pearce’s gaze was fixed on Moreno. It wasn’t angry, but there was an edge to it. The Marine guard closed the hatch, and Pearce crossed his arms. Mason shrugged and poured himself a whole coffee ration, about half a cup, from a basket marked “</span>
  <em>
    <span>TAKE ONE</span>
  </em>
  <span>”.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Mr. President. I don’t have much time--”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You’re finished when I’m finished, Admiral</span>
  <em>
    <span>,</span>
  </em>
  <span>” he growled, “I’m not happy, and I am very concerned.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Moreno’s words caught in her throat. “Sir?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“There’s a riot going on at a foreign station involving civilian and military personnel, and there are reports of </span>
  <em>
    <span>firefights</span>
  </em>
  <span> happening between janissaries and Marines. if I’m not wrong, you were just in negotiations with these foreigners without consulting the civilian government. And you have been making arrangements involving lawbreakers with these same foreigners, who lack any kind of court system, or a government </span>
  <em>
    <span>period</span>
  </em>
  <span>, without consulting the judiciary branch of </span>
  <em>
    <span>our </span>
  </em>
  <span>government. Frankly Admiral, it’s concerning.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Yes sir, it is--"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"To my knowledge, workers don't just get murderous overnight. And to my knowledge, the chain of command, while compressed, does still exist. I am not happy that you are gambling the fate of this entire government and the lives of everyone in this fleet without consulting my administration. I had to find out about this through anonymous sources."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"To be fair, they're not </span>
  <em>
    <span>murderous,</span>
  </em>
  <span> they're just angry," Mason said, "they're willing to beat the snot out of each other, but not </span>
  <em>
    <span>try</span>
  </em>
  <span> to kill each other. They're stressed, scared, and stuck with people who they've been frightened by for ten years."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"That would explain the rioters. But it doesn't explain the shooting. What happened?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“That’s just what we’re trying to figure out, sir,” Moreno said slowly, “Communications are very poor between here and the station. We can’t close to real-time communication range with that battleship sitting over your heads.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“It’s my understanding that we don’t have a chance at taking it on, Admiral,” Pearce replied, but tilted his head, “...Then again, they may not know that. Our ships are close enough in size, after all. But that still doesn’t excuse what is happening. You may be in charge of the fleet, but would it have been so hard to send an email?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Sir, this is a very rapidly developing situation.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I am aware of that. I am also aware that no preparations have been made to contact our judiciary on any kind of charges for the civilian workers who have been involved. What remains of the Judge Advocate Corps has been consulted, but not our civilian judiciary. Those pirates, even if they do have some sort of court system, don’t have any </span>
  <em>
    <span>actual</span>
  </em>
  <span> lawyers or judges. We’re the only legitimate government in the system and the only ones with an </span>
  <em>
    <span>actual</span>
  </em>
  <span> court system. We have a judicial system. We are the only ones properly equipped for dealing with the aftermath of this.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Moreno was taken aback, “Sir, we can’t just throw around our weight! We’re a government, yes, but the </span>
  <em>
    <span>Shades</span>
  </em>
  <span> can’t know that!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Pearce rubbed his brow in frustration, “I am </span>
  <em>
    <span>aware</span>
  </em>
  <span>. I was on the project too. I am not </span>
  <em>
    <span>saying</span>
  </em>
  <span> we should throw around our </span>
  <em>
    <span>governmental </span>
  </em>
  <span>weight. I’m saying we need to use our </span>
  <em>
    <span>judicial </span>
  </em>
  <span>weight. More than that, I’m saying we need to </span>
  <em>
    <span>act</span>
  </em>
  <span> like a government, and not a military dictatorship. Frankly, some of my advisors are worried there’s a coup brewing. Considering most of the military staff aboard our civilian ships are boys and girls, I can’t believe such rumors,” he eyed the admiral, “At least, I certainly hope so. I would hate to think you’re throwing a coup with children who really should be in college.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Moreno was taken aback. There was a military presence on most vessels in the fleet, even just a handful of staff who only technically counted. Most of the government-owned merchant had personnel drawn from the Navy to operate weapons and repel boarders, Compact or otherwise. Most of those staff had been drawn into the fleet’s remaining dedicated military vessels and replaced with raw recruits. They needed personnel with experience to staff the warships, while they just needed warm bodies to aim the popguns. Most were practically useless in the modern era anyway. “Sir, that’s...that’s just mad. I assure you, I have no intention of--”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Then why haven’t your people contacted the judiciary? I agree, a coup is ludicrous, but it seems strange that your people seem to be planning to put </span>
  <em>
    <span>civilian</span>
  </em>
  <span> workers in a military court.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Moreno shook her head, “That is not the case. With all due respect sir, I think we’re both jumping to conclusions here.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Your people are afraid we’re going to compromise security because we’re a bunch of bureaucratic civilians who don’t know what real war is, and my people think you’re a bunch of knuckle-dragging neanderthals who want to establish a dictatorship? Yeah, I’d say that much at least,” Pearce said. “What are you planning? What is going on? You have our ambassador, Mr. Mason here, and yourself making negotiations on our behalf without officially informing the commander-in-chief, without even an email. I realize this is a developing situation, but this is the fate of the entire UEC here! We have a right to know what’s going on, and you must follow orders!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Sir, the fleet doesn’t send a letter home every time--”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Pearce shook his head, “We’re right here, you could just walk down the hallway. Why are you acting without orders like this? You’re putting everything in jeopardy!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Against orders? But--” Moreno’s mouth snapped shut. She lifted her hand to facepalm, but instantly changed to professionally rubbing her eyes, “Oh damn it…”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What is it?” Pearce asked.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Moreno sighed, “I’m sorry sir, we should have consulted with you beforehand. I assure you, there was no nefarious plot at work here. This was entirely human error.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Elaborate.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Moreno gestured to the bulkhead, “Most of the crew didn’t serve before the war, they’re trained for fighting the Compact,” she nearly said ‘</span>
  <em>
    <span>my</span>
  </em>
  <span> crew’, another indicator she wasn’t thinking straight. “It’s only the old hands like myself and Mr. Mason here who are used to dealing with foreign relations that don’t involve guaranteed weapons fire.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yes, you two have been involved in negotiations with pirates and the independent states. I am aware,” Pearce said slowly, nodding.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“In those activities, we were pretty far out from authority, with the nearest command facility being the nearest fleet base. During those operations, we could generally use our discretion and only needed to consult with personnel like ambassadors. We would put civilian prisoners in the brig until we could bring them back to base for the authorities to take care of.” She grimaced, “Sir, this is a problem of muscle memory. I’m deeply sorry. We’re exhausted and worn out like anyone.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Muscle memory?” Pearce asked dubiously.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Mason nodded, “In operations like this back home, ambassadors and senior military officials were given detailed instructions they were to operate on at their discretion. I sincerely apologize, this was a huge mistake. We aren’t used to operating like this with authorities so close by. I’ll inform my staff immediately. This won’t happen again, sir, I assure you.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Hm,” Pearce said with an opaque expression. He looked at Mason, “And why didn’t you email us, Mr. Mason?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Mason shrugged sheepishly, “I’m sorry, Mr. President. I have no excuse.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Pearce exhaled and smiled, “We’re all tired. I’d wager a lot of my analysts are just as tired as you folks.” His expression hardened again, “We can’t let these mistakes happen, you two. We’re barely surviving as it is, we can’t have faith in the very government we’re trying to save be shaken. At the bare minimum, all we want is a heads-up.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yes sir. I’ll see to it.” Moreno realized for a second how isolated from the civilians she was. She hadn’t left the ship since Tau Ceti. She hadn’t </span>
  <em>
    <span>seen</span>
  </em>
  <span> any. She hadn’t been lying. It </span>
  <em>
    <span>hadn’t</span>
  </em>
  <span> occurred to her to consult with Pearce immediately. Back home she’d be up against the wall for pulling something like this. But they </span>
  <em>
    <span>weren’t</span>
  </em>
  <span> back home and that was the problem.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Pearce nodded again, “You can start by briefing me on exactly what we’re doing right now. I don’t like to have to hear this through hearsay. I have no doubt you made the right decisions, I’d just like to know what you negotiated exactly.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>
  <strong>
    <span>XXXXX</span>
  </strong>
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Kaitet turned from the screen to her cousin. “Nice work, asshole.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Nanhar groaned, “Kai, people are dead! We need to be objective about this! You heard how they were acting! They just want to cover their rears!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I </span>
  <em>
    <span>am</span>
  </em>
  <span> being objective. And need I remind you, those are </span>
  <em>
    <span>my </span>
  </em>
  <span>people on the deck?” Kaitet shoved a finger in his face, “The only reason you’re this mad about </span>
  <em>
    <span>my</span>
  </em>
  <span> people is that those are humans, and you get to get your kicks in!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“That’s not true!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yes, it is,” Kaitet snarled, “That’s how it </span>
  <em>
    <span>always</span>
  </em>
  <span> is! Tell me those people are wrong for trusting us!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“They’re mad about something that happened 2,000 years ago, Kaitet! They’re just irrational!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Kaitet facepalmed, “</span>
  <em>
    <span>Both</span>
  </em>
  <span> of you are mad about that! And both of you need to remember that it’s ancient history! Look, they’re afraid, and we’re afraid. It’s a fair deal, alright?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Fair deal? Who knows what they’ll do with those prisoners?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Kaitet looked away, “They’ll face something better than whatever it is our troops might do.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Kaitet, they’re either going to let them go or do something much worse! They’re savages! I’m concerned for </span>
  <em>
    <span>their </span>
  </em>
  <span>lives!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Kaitet looked back at him, “You liar. You don’t give a </span>
  <em>
    <span>damn</span>
  </em>
  <span> about client lives!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Nanhar threw up his arms, “Kaitet, if I didn’t, would I be here?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I don’t know, would you?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Nanhar looked befuddled at her, “Kaitet, what is the matter with you?” The privateer turned away and moved to one of the briefing room seats. The former Space Force officer sat down opposite her. Nanhar held out one hand, “Kaitet, please, why are you being so unreasonable?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Kaitet crossed her arms and didn’t meet his gaze, “You should know by now.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Nanhar huffed, “You’re always unreasonable! You don’t tell me what’s wrong, you humiliate me in front of our colleagues, and you don’t listen to me!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I do listen to you.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Not on stuff like this! I’ve done everything I can to help! I know I was wrong, but I’m trying to help!” Nanhar rubbed the bridge of his nose as Kaitet scoffed at him, “Look, it’s </span>
  <em>
    <span>their </span>
  </em>
  <span>lot we’re trying to improve, anyway! If they’d just stop being so rude, we might be able to knock over the Triarchs! If they pulled their weight, maybe our revolution could’ve worked!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Like it ever would…” Kaitet murmured, “Nanhar, why do you think I’m out here? If your bullshit AI thing, and everything else couldn’t convince people, what makes you think we’re going to improve things in the next few centuries?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“That’s not what you said when we joined forces,” Nanhar said, “And we are </span>
  <em>
    <span>going</span>
  </em>
  <span> to succeed. Someday, we will. And they’ll appreciate us.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Us? Or </span>
  <em>
    <span>you</span>
  </em>
  <span>?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“This isn’t about me,” Nanhar snapped, “This is about freedom, this is about a monstrous regime that needs to go down! Your client friends are in trouble because of the Triarchs! How many campaigns over the centuries have been under their rule? How many resources, how many people have been wasted conquering people who probably didn’t do anything? We can’t trust the same people who wanted to build an AI! They’re why your client friends are always in trouble, why they’re always being oppressed! They’re why Heermann didn’t get a fair trial!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Kaitet turned her gaze on him, “</span>
  <em>
    <span>You </span>
  </em>
  <span>want to talk about humiliation? Do you want to talk about doing things to help? Listen to yourself! So you happened to do the right thing for once in your life, big deal! You should’ve thought of that twenty years ago!” She gestured at the screen, “You’re why they’re so afraid of us! Did you hear what they said? They’re worried we’re just going to kill their people if we take them into custody! </span>
  <em>
    <span>You’re </span>
  </em>
  <span>why they’re so afraid!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“That’s what we’re trying to change! We’ve changed, </span>
  <em>
    <span>I’ve</span>
  </em>
  <span> changed!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Kaitet scowled, “Have you changed, Nanhar? Or did you just decide to do the right thing for once so you can go around kicking client people like you always do?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Nanhar shook his head, “No, I don’t want to!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Then </span>
  <em>
    <span>what is wrong with you</span>
  </em>
  <span>?! Why do you keep antagonizing them? Why do you keep insulting them?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“But I’m trying to help them!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You’ve got a funny way of showing it, Nanhar,” Kaitet growled.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“If they hadn’t brought those soldiers aboard, this wouldn’t have happened!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“They brought entire companies of Janissaries aboard because they were afraid of you. They’re afraid of all of us!” Kaitet threw up her hands, “They’re afraid of all of us, because of people like </span>
  <em>
    <span>you</span>
  </em>
  <span>!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“But I didn’t </span>
  <em>
    <span>do</span>
  </em>
  <span> anything!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Kaitet rubbed her face and cursed, “Nanhar, you just don’t get it!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Nanhar was getting frustrated, “What don’t I get? A fair shot? Your weird obsession with the clients? Heermann?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Kaitet’s eyes burned with fire, and instantly Nanhar realized he’d gone too far, “Don’t you dare talk about him. Or a fair shot. You didn’t give me one for sixteen years until you needed something. You didn’t give the humans a fair shot when they came aboard, instead, you let your nephew scar the captain!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Need I remind you--!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“She had every reason not to listen to you condescending to her! If you maybe minded your manners for five seconds--”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Kaitet, I’m </span>
  <em>
    <span>sorry</span>
  </em>
  <span>, alright? But you can’t keep giving me grief like this! Tell me if I’m doing something wrong!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Every time I do, you whine or ignore me, you immature idiot!” Kaitet retorted.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Nanhar groaned in frustration, “Kaitet, can </span>
  <em>
    <span>you</span>
  </em>
  <span> listen to me? Please?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The pirate huffed.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Nanhar leaned forward in his seat, “I’m sorry about when we were young. But I can’t change the past. And you shouldn’t judge me for it. I’m trying to do the right thing, and it’s not easy! I’m doing my best, I left everything behind. They were going to kill Juretti if I didn’t do anything, and we risked everything for this chance. We left </span>
  <em>
    <span>everything</span>
  </em>
  <span> behind, and not just us, but everyone who followed me and my officers. We left everything we ever knew…” he gestured, “Hell, we’re sheltering a Jackal! We left everything behind and we’re treating with the people we've been fighting for 3,000 years. Our revolution failed, and that’s that. I know I haven’t been through what you’ve been through, and can you please appreciate that? I’m trying to do the right thing, but some days I don’t even know what that is.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Kaitet’s outrage cooled somewhat. “I can try. But you can’t keep treating people like they’re your rug and they should be thankful you haven’t walked through animal crap. Lately.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Nanhar sighed, “That’s not--”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Stop calling them ‘Broken’, Nanhar.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Nanhar blinked, “...But that’s what they are.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Does it matter? It pisses them off!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“But...they’re client races. They...we know best. At least the best of us do.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“And who’s in charge of the laws back home?” Kaitet asked.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Nanhar shrugged, “Politicians are always awful, but I guess I see your point...but no matter how far from the original intent of the Compact we are, ultimately our goal is equality for everyone! We have to guide the younger races. Not like what we’ve been doing, obviously. We have to change that, but...we’re one of the greatest civilizations in the galaxy! It's our duty to at least do it </span>
  <em>
    <span>right</span>
  </em>
  <span>!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Kaitet looked down at her boots. She thought of the pale red dot on the screens. Regardless of how old the Compact was, it had still done wrong. Even if their goal to help the younger races was right, that wasn’t what they were doing. Neither Heermann nor Milena would agree.</span>
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>
  <strong>
    <span>XXXXX</span>
  </strong>
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"</span>
  <em>
    <span>Respectful Assertion</span>
  </em>
  <span>, Bison. I see an opening, I'm going to make a break for it!" The pilot nicknamed Bison threw his engines to maximum burn, and shouted, "Hang on!" The assault shuttle's main engines ignited as it rocketed through the outer edge of the cloud of auxiliary craft.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Son of a bitch! </span>
  <em>
    <span>Suffren</span>
  </em>
  <span>, Stickybeak! One of them is making a break for it! Intercepting! Request permission to fire!" Bravo 22's pilot snapped and twirled the ship like a top. She put it's nose just ahead of the enemy craft.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"</span>
  <em>
    <span>Bravo 22, </span>
  </em>
  <span>Suffren. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Negative! Do not fire!</span>
  </em>
  <span>"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Roger! I'm going to buzz him!" Stickybeak threw her throttle forward, and the dropship's engines roared in the compartment behind her. Her fingers tensed on the controls as she watched her displays. The dropship's trajectory slowly caught up to the shuttle. "C'mon, c'mon, c'mon!"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The assault shuttle was ahead of the pack. No one was there. Bison put the ship on a direct course to a hangar dozens of kilometers away. He pulled a control and threw the ship's tail toward the hangar. The ship went full burn to try and slow down. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Finally, Stickybeak’s computer found a solution that put it ahead of the enemy shuttle. And Stickybeak realized her horrific mistake. </span>
  <em>
    <span>She wasn't flying a fighter anymore</span>
  </em>
  <span>. There was a squad of Marines counting on her. She didn't have the propulsion for a fancy maneuver. There was no time to think. With a roar of anguish and hate and desperation, she engaged the RCS and translated up with all her life. There was no time to use the main jets.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Bison’s collision alarms sounded once again, and he saw how close Bravo 22 was. Her trajectory took her right through his ship. In a panic, heedless of the distance to the station, he translated downward and engaged the mains.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Too late he realized that her trajectory had been momentary. The Broken dropship's new trajectory slid forward from where he had been. The assault shuttle’s trajectory now took it right toward a station module, even as he translated down. “Brace for impact!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>His copilot covered her face with her arms. The Janissaries assumed crash positions. The assault shuttle’s slim shield bubble brushed against the station’s for an instant. They just barely cleared the hangar and the module.</span>
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>
  <strong>
    <span>XXXXX</span>
  </strong>
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The Tribune engineer faced down a human with a wrench, both yet to attack and waiting for one’s jeers to make the other crack. The entire compartment was filled with brawling clients and ruling species.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Suddenly there was a tremendous groan through the hull, and everyone froze. There was a shriek of tortured metal, a crumpling sound, and all eyes locked on a part of the bulkhead pulling itself inward. The compartment occupants looked at each other in horror.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>A mechanical voice sounded. “</span>
  <em>
    <span>Hull breach in this area; evacuate immediately. Pressure doors are dropping.</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Oh shit…” the human gasped, then looked at the Tribune, “Why the hell are you standing there?! Move it, man!” Without hesitation, he charged forward and pushed the engineer toward the exit, “Come on come on go go go!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>They had less than a minute at </span>
  <em>
    <span>best</span>
  </em>
  <span> to make it to the door. Already their ears were popping. The bulkhead was slowly breaking apart. The old conflicts were forgotten. It didn’t matter who they’d been fighting. Humans pulled Prelates to their feet. A Worker grabbed a Pedlar sprawled on the deck in a fireman’s lift and rushed to the nearest hatch.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The Tribune engineer and his opponent rushed as fast as they could toward the door. A Tribune tried to hold the pressure door open, and a Hesitant held the other side, “Run! Run! You can make it!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>A Steerman stumbled and fell. The engineer grabbed the back of his collar and flung him toward the hatch. It was half-closed, and the Hesitant pulled him through, “Come on, you can make it! Come on!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The Tribune and the human realized they were the last through. They weren’t going to make it. The human grabbed the other man’s sleeve, and pointed at a dozen big white spheres that had popped out of wall cabinets, “Look!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>They didn’t think, didn’t stop, didn’t even hesitate. They rushed for the rescue balls, their only hope. The hatch slammed shut as they reached the spheres. They punched massive red buttons on each of them, and each pulled a ripcord. Each inflated to a much larger size and squashed down so they could lie almost flat. The engineer fumbled with his. He couldn’t get the zipper out. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Gods damned tiny zippers!</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span> The human groaned in frustration, reached over, tore the tear-away cover, and unzipped the sphere. The Tribune lowered it down and pulled it up to his waist. It wasn’t a suit, it was a giant bag. But it wouldn’t become a sphere again until he could get inside and inflate it.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The human tried to climb into his, but just then, something gave. A massive hole tore in the bulkhead, and loose objects hurled into space. The human’s scream was taken away as he was pulled back toward the opening.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Before he could go flying, the engineer caught his boot just in time. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Hang on!” The Tribune hauled the human back, grabbed him around the midsection, and pulled him into the perimeter of the bag. Both exhaled. The Tribune pulled the bag over both of them and yanked the zipper closed. Automatically it sealed with an additional layer, and the life support system engaged.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The Personal Rescue Enclosure inflated to a sphere, enough for an above-average Tribune to fit, with enough room for another if they didn't mind being familiar. The ball shifted and the pair rolled into each other. For a short Tribune and a short human, it had just enough space. The enclosure, or rescue ball, was designed in the event of a loss of cabin pressure to provide a haven that could be moved by a person with a spacesuit. It could fit two people in an emergency if one was incapacitated or couldn't find another.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The two men breathed heavily and tried to untangle their limbs as the ball expanded. The Tribune checked the few systems the ball had, and the human twisted around in the limited space to look out the one viewport. "Life support is good," the engineer grunted.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"We're still in the compartment by the looks of it," the human panted. He twisted around and pushed the back of the large being he was pressed up against, "scooch over!"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"There isn't much room in here Broken, and it's </span>
  <em>
    <span>my </span>
  </em>
  <span>pod! Yours went out the window! Are you hurt at all?"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The human snarled back, "I'm good. You’re not bleeding are you, doggy? I don’t want your slobber </span>
  <em>
    <span>or</span>
  </em>
  <span> your blood in here!"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"I'm fine. And that means we get equal amounts of space!"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Fine!"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Good!"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Great!"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>They glared at each other in the gloom of their prison, lit only by a few small displays. It only just dawned on them what they did. Who they were stuck with. In the dim light of the emergency systems, the other looked like something out of a horror movie. With the stench to match.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The human shoved the Tribune's leg. The Tribune pushed back. They sat there for a long moment.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"So...you got a deck of cards?" The engineer asked.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"You got something to bet with?" snarled the human.</span>
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>
  <strong>
    <span>XXXXX</span>
  </strong>
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The bar where the humans had sung their way to victory was a battlefield. Fistfights continued all over, chairs went flying. All motion stopped when a big red V-shape hurtled past the window and left a tremendous fracture. Then the bulkhead started to crumble.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"</span>
  <em>
    <span>Hull breach in this area; evacuate immediately. Pressure doors are dropping.</span>
  </em>
  <span>"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It didn't matter what they were or who they'd been fighting. Kobolds, Locators, Mules, Shimmers, Thoughtful, Tribunes, humans, they moved as one toward the nearest pressurized compartment. Three humans worked together to lift a table off a Tribune. A Thoughtful shook the being he'd been fighting, then shouted for someone to give him some help. Nobody was left behind. Nobody was left in the rubble. There was nothing individually compassionate in these acts; it was training. They'd been trained since they'd signed up, some since they were infants, for what to do when your ears popped and the hull creaked. It didn't matter if it was a murderer or your best friend beside you, you didn't leave people behind in a hull breach.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>A Pedlar pulled her fist back from the human she was about to punch, splayed out over the bar. She and the human locked eyes. The Pedlar hauled the human to her feet, then bent to grab her friend collapsed on the floor. "Move it or lose it!"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Move it yourself, hyena!" The human snapped back and grabbed the unconscious Pedlar's other arm.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The bartender followed them and took one last look for anyone left. His eyes widened as the cracks grew. He spun around, "Move! Move!"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The air rushed around them. Ears popped. They rushed out into the corridor as the bar doors closed, and several people stood in the corridor waiting for them. The corridor was compromised too. They had to find an unaffected compartment. The group moved as quickly as they could with the wounded Pedlar. Guide lights, like those in a movie theater, lit up on the floor, with red, orange, yellow, green, and blue lights indicating the distance to and integrity of the nearest airtight chamber. Red was the furthest, blue the closest and completely intact. Yellow was intact but hazardous, in case the compartment was isolated from the others or too far away. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>They only saw red, orange, and yellow lights as they moved. The others ahead of them rushed toward the brightest yellow one, the hatch to deeper in the hull. The emergency doors and force fields would only stay open for so long; once enough pressure had been lost they would close regardless of who was still on the other side. They weren’t going to make it.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The bartender ran to a nearby hatch, where a yellow light led. It was a lounge, and that was good enough. “In here! Quick!” The others rushed inside, and the human stopped to help the bartender push the hatch shut. A green light switched on. The bartender turned and moved to a medical station on the wall. He grabbed a medical kit and brought it to the wounded Pedlar, whom the other had laid down on a couch. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The human grabbed a sealant sprayer and checked the perimeter of the room for leaks. “I think this place is good!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The female Pedlar wiped the sweat from her brow. Her friend was breathing normally and looked around dazedly. The bartender passed him some gauze for a bleeding wound. The female turned to the human, “Why’d you help us? What’s your game?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The human looked at her, “No game! I dunno, I just reacted.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The bartender looked up, and chuckled, "Well, when this is all over, I promise you all a free drink, and then you can get back to whatever you were fighting about."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The human sniffed, "I think I'll just take the drink, because…" she paused as if dazed. Had she had a concussion? Then she laughed hysterically, "... because I don't even remember what we were fighting about!"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The Pedlar opened her mouth to deliver a snappy retort. Everyone looked at her expectantly as she growled, looked away, and cursed. "I'll just take the drink too."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Neither can you?" The human laughed.</span>
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>
  <strong>
    <span>XXXXX</span>
  </strong>
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Tribune Supervisor Corlund and his party skidded to a halt. The observation port beside them gave a front-row seat to the chaos unfolding in the shipwomb. The port was on the odd-numbered of the station, with all the odd-numbered central corridors.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The shipwomb, Shipwomb Four, was in shape essentially a large wireframe box that held an enormous network of gantries, girders, assembly stations, and arms. The central corridors dominated the frame, stacked three to either side; in the middle, and on the corners. They were connected by habitat modules, cargo bays, and manufacturing systems. Larger factory units were on the dorsal and ventral sections of the shipwomb. The hallway Corlund and his party stood in were one in between the central corridors. A tendril of linkages connected it to the larger asteroid L4 station they were attached to, along with several others. The large human freighter was nestled in the center of Four’s grip. Corlund could see there was numerous EVA craft scrambling from the freighter to repair Central One. And then to the rest of the hull. Initial reports had said a bunch of the rioters had damaged the station. It wasn’t active malice, space stations could just be delicate was all. Any fires were dangerous. Most of the hull breaches came from Central One’s “joyride”.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The supervisor grabbed his head in horror as he looked down, "oh good gods above!" the riot damage now paled in comparison to the assault shuttle careening lazily below him through the shipwomb. Its thrusters fired intermittently, unable to regain control. The craft dragged itself along the long compartments, just brushing up against it, like an old ship brushing the side of an iceberg. The hallway shuddered and groaned, and threw several of Corlund’s party off their feet. The hull didn’t open like an egg. It was a tiny cut. A chunk of the damage was from the atmosphere trying to escape. The supervisor groaned, "oh no, oh no, oh no!" The shuttle tore a jagged line across habitat modules, power systems, and by the looks of it compromised Central Three.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The shuttle finally broke away, and just barely missed hitting the freighter. It spun off into space. Another shuttle zipped past just outside the shipwomb, and made a maneuver to pursue the first. Corlund dragged his hands down his face, “Oh gods damn it!” He couldn’t believe it. Twenty years in the Unbound and </span>
  <em>
    <span>nothing</span>
  </em>
  <span> like this had happened. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Nothing! As if a riot isn’t bad enough!</span>
  </em>
  <span> The poor man grabbed his PDA, “Emergency, all stations. Hull breaches on the odd-side of the station. Scramble void rescue crews and repair crews.” He looked back at his party, a mixture of guards and aides, “What’s the status on Central One? It has to have collapsed by now, that’s where the vehicles were fighting--”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“It’s holding, for now, Corlund,” one aide said as they examined a tablet device, “Looks like somebody got the void crews working!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Corlund blinked, and looked up, “It’s...it’s holding? They must have </span>
  <em>
    <span>some</span>
  </em>
  <span> will. Alright, that gives us some options.” Each corridor was connected to the major storage and manufacturing areas. If five of them were still somewhat pressurized, that gave them a better chance to save the womb. “We can seal off the center of Central Three. Reroute emergency crews through one and five. Who’s coordinating Central One? Do they have the Broken under control?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The aide spoke into their PDA for a moment, “Sorry, communications are terrible right now. They say they’re in a hurry. The Broken aren’t fighting anymore, they’re helping to repair the damage.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Corlund nodded, at least they could do </span>
  <em>
    <span>something</span>
  </em>
  <span> right. Not that he had anything against them, of course, “Let’s get up there and find whoever’s in charge ourselves. We need to coordinate our </span>
  <em>
    <span>coordination</span>
  </em>
  <span>, after all.” He took one last look out the window and groaned, “Stupid Janissaries…!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Mr. Corlund, Central One’s controlled by the Broken Janissaries!” one of his guards exclaimed, “Is this wise?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Corlund turned toward the guard, his eyes narrowed. He slowly lifted an arm to point at the pieces of debris drifting away from the damage to the hull. The guard blinked, “Uh...never mind.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The aide rattled off a quick inquiry, then looked up, “The ceasefire is still in effect. The Broken say they’ll alert the perimeter to let us in.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Corlund nodded, then jerked his head to the party. “What does it matter? We all breathe the same air, we’ve got a cease-fire, and there’s a bunch of our people in there. Let’s go!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>
  <span>They made their way to the closest access point to Central One. The elevators were out, so all they had was a long emergency stairwell with damaged lighting. The aide checked their PDA, "This should be the perimeter area.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>One of the guards leaned out to look up the stairwell. Several flights of stairs could be seen. Suddenly a spray of plasma fire ripped into the deck next to his feet. "</span>
  <em>
    <span>Halt!"</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Corlund dragged the guard back and leaned out, hands up, to peer up at whoever shot at them, "Whoa, whoa, whoa! Hold your fire!" He said it as much for his guards as the opponents.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>A spotlight snapped on the stairway landing ahead of them. "That's far enough, Lassie! Get back behind the line!"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Sure enough, there was a plasma-scarred spray-painted line two steps behind him. Corlund looked back up, "I'm here to talk! We cleared it with your boss!"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Why? Run out of small children to butcher? If you turn around I'm sure there's an orphanage you can slaughter!" There were a few human chuckles. It seemed there was a number who’d taken up position on the landings above them. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Broken, please! We cleared it with your boss!"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Go fuck a hydrant! Or eat Timmy, Lassie!"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"I </span>
  <em>
    <span>demand</span>
  </em>
  <span>--"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>There was another burst of fire from the spotlight that made him jump back. "</span>
  <em>
    <span>Go exterminate someone else you freak!</span>
  </em>
  <span>"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Corlund held up a hand again at his guards, "Hold your fire! Please, I’m Senior Supervisor Corlund! I need to speak to whoever’s in charge!"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"You didn't give the president a chance, did ya?" Another human called out.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"President? The hell?" A guard muttered.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Jenkins, what the hell are you doing?" A voice shouted, from two or three stories up, echoing through the stairwell.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Sergeant--!"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Can it," the voice snapped, "go to the rear before I break yours off." He called down, "Are you Corlund?"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yes! I need to speak to whoever’s in charge of this section! In case you hadn’t noticed we’ve got bigger problems than a riot and a shooting!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The sergeant didn't answer immediately. He wondered how many syllables he’d be able to get out before they started shooting. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Okay, how to put this...</span>
  </em>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0015"><h2>15. And Now For a Word</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>...from our sponsors.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>A camera was fixed on Ambassador Mason and a Shade diplomatic officer(or their equivalent) as they stood in a docking bay. The ambassador read aloud from a PDA, "</span>
  <em>
    <span>This was a day of tragedy. Blood was shed over a minor altercation, and thousands could have died were it not for the quick thinking on the part of many individuals here today. This was a terrible accident that could have been avoided, but was not.</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The Shade diplomat raised their device, “</span>
  <em>
    <span>People of all races are hurt by the events today, what began as a minor altercation became an enormous conflict that threatened to break our fragile alliance. A fistfight in one of the bars aboard L4 Shipwomb Three exacerbated existing racial tensions. Some sort of conflict was bound to occur, unfortunately.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Mason took his turn, “</span>
  <em>
    <span>Shade and Avian forces struggled to control the riots. In the middle of this, a Blue Avian officer and a Shade Flotilla security officer became involved in a physical struggle. A weapon was fired by mistake, and both sides believed they were under attack. Events were further exacerbated by disputes outside the space station that caused heavy damage to the outer hull.</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The Shade diplomat spoke quickly, “</span>
  <em>
    <span>Please understand that we have this under control. Our investigative teams are studying the situation now, and no wrongdoer has been found yet. Ms. Kaitet, Column Leader Prime Nanhar, and Admiral Moreno will not tolerate any mob justice. Those involved have been taken into custody.</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Admiral Moreno and Captain Mrowka sat in the </span>
  <em>
    <span>Vanguard’s </span>
  </em>
  <span>briefing room with the lights dimmed. Mrowka propped her head up with her hand with her elbow on the table, “Well, looks like they think ‘admiral’ is some sort of pirate title. At least it doesn’t sound as crazy as some of the monarchists out here…”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Who was that one we heard about? God-King Kolos Vic Gen of the Known Universe or something?” Moreno asked.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Oh yeah, the stand-up comedian. She looked like a giant peacock, right?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Moreno snorted, “I think she was weird even by pirate standards.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Hey, that’s subjective. I think Katey’s weird by their standards because she didn’t slaughter us to avoid a migraine,” Mrowka said.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Moreno nodded, “Though nothing I’ve seen can match up to some of the guys I ran into before the war. Heh, did you ever read about the </span>
  <em>
    <span>Black Kestrel</span>
  </em>
  <span>? That cruiser played hell on us before the war, but that skipper was a bit of a nut,” she chuckled.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I haven’t heard of them,” Mrowka raised an eyebrow, “Were they nuts or just really good? What’s the difference between them and what we’re dealing with around here?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Moreno smiled, “They dared to take on Compact ships when there weren’t any Navy ships around.” Her smile faded, “I wonder whatever happened to them…”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I don’t know,” Mrowka shrugged. They looked back at the public statement onscreen for a moment. Mrowka glanced at Moreno, “Have you heard anything new about that Adrianna Leblanc woman? The Red Queen?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“ONI doesn’t have any breakthroughs,” Moreno shook her head, “I’d love to find more, but without any word from our recon teams, or a Red Hand operative, we’ve gotten as much as we can.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Damn shame. The Red Hand seems pretty powerful, and Leblanc’s pretty smart from what they say.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Moreno nodded, "Yeah, but unlike the </span>
  <em>
    <span>Black Kestrel</span>
  </em>
  <span>, we don't know where her loyalties really lie. We don't know enough about her personality."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Mrowka looked back, "Pirates don't usually talk about those parts," she grimaced, “Usually they do the whole, ‘she’s pretty good for a Broken’ bullshit.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Moreno nodded. "Yeah. Yet despite being a mere Broken she managed to get to where she is."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"On the other hand, maybe that says more about her personality than we think. Think she's related to the </span>
  <em>
    <span>Black Kestrel's </span>
  </em>
  <span>skipper?"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Moreno peered at her, "You know I hadn't thought of that. The first part I mean."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Mrowka gestured with one hand, "I mean if she's anything like the pre-war pirates...You said they were crazier than anything else around here. Maybe there's a pattern. If she's as crazy as they were, maybe when it comes down to the wire she'll be like the </span>
  <em>
    <span>Kestrel</span>
  </em>
  <span> was in the end."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Moreno nodded thoughtfully, then frowned, "Still too many 'maybes'. We can only hope for someone like the </span>
  <em>
    <span>Kestrel</span>
  </em>
  <span>. We need more information."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Did we have much on the Shades?" Mrowka asked with a gesture at the screen, "They seemed like a bunch of freaks and Katey's been pretty good to us. Well, her </span>
  <em>
    <span>specifically</span>
  </em>
  <span>. Current circumstances notwithstanding."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Fair point, current circumstances notwithstanding. She hasn't opened fire for this mess. But she doesn't literally crucify wrongdoers on the outer hull."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Mrowka winced, "Did we get any details on if that was real or not?"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"It was too specific to not be. She must know </span>
  <em>
    <span>something</span>
  </em>
  <span> about history. Stuff like that makes me a bit wary."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Mrowka dipped her head at her with a raise of an eyebrow, "Yeah, good point. Still, doesn't hurt to try. I say we go for it at the first opportunity, even if she is frightening."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Moreno frowned, “That might be a while, especially if the Principality comes to us, and we might not need her help as desperately,” she paused, and gestured at the screen, “...and if we can survive all this.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span> The public statement was coming to an end, and a logo appeared. It was the silhouette of an ancient sub-light starship with the letters “P.E.N.” underneath. “</span>
  <em>
    <span>Pusher Express Network</span>
  </em>
  <span>”. There was a flourish of special effects, and a voiceover, “</span>
  <em>
    <span>P.E.N.</span>
  </em>
  <span>, </span>
  <em>
    <span>the speed of C is no wall for us</span>
  </em>
  <span>.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Better slogan than "We'll get there eventually,"</span>
  </em>
  <span> Moreno smiled at the old joke. The PE network was old enough her grandfather made that joke.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>A newsroom every person in the UEC would be familiar with appeared. A middle-aged man turned in his chair to face the viewer, “</span>
  <em>
    <span>Good evening. That was the just official public statement from the Navy, the government, and the Shade Flotilla on the ongoing situation. An update on our previous story; two days after the end of the riots, Fifteen Marines, several dozen workers, and Commander Afolabi, commanding officer of the UECNS </span>
  </em>
  <span>Hecla</span>
  <em>
    <span>, remain in custody after altercations that led to several deaths on both sides of the riot. We have word that the Shade Flotilla has taken into custody many of their people as well.</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He leaned forward onto the desk. It was hard to tell how much of the environment was special effects and what wasn’t. “</span>
  <em>
    <span>As the officials said, this comes in the aftermath of a vicious riot that resulted in numerous deaths, and only ended when a shuttlecraft collided with the drydock the </span>
  </em>
  <span>Arthur C Clarke </span>
  <em>
    <span>was docked in.</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The screen played a clip from a reporter who’d been on the station during the initial outbreak of violence. Huge crowds buffeted against one another in a large cargo bay. There were numerous scuffles, with a few isolated and violent strikes at one another, as was typical in these sorts of riots. “</span>
  <em>
    <span>This is Calfuray Saitou reporting from Shade Flotilla L4 Drydock Three--</span>
  </em>
  <span>” the reporter speaking appeared onscreen as the camera turned, “</span>
  <em>
    <span>A bar fight just turned violent, and we’ve already got people on the ground. What started as a brawl has now divided the compartment into two sections. We're on the human side of it, but we’ve got different alien species on this side too. It looks like people with different grievances are banding together--!</span>
  </em>
  <span>” the reporter dodged an object that flew close to her head, “</span>
  <em>
    <span>Whoa! Dushyanta, get down!</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The feed shut off and the anchor returned, “</span>
  <em>
    <span>That was the scene two days ago. Public statements are one thing, but that’s just broad strokes. We want the specifics. Journalists and investigators spent the last two days getting the situation on the ground.</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Saitou appeared again, in the same compartment as before only with most of the rioters removed, and the remainder now subdued. She stood by a group of human workers. Several were wounded, "</span>
  <em>
    <span>So how did the fight escalate to a riot? What was the tipping point?</span>
  </em>
  <span>"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>A worker with a black eye grimaced, "</span>
  <em>
    <span>We didn't plan it, but... everyone's on edge I guess. It's the anniversary, you know? We were all a bit hammered, we saw a Tribune and a human arguing...we weren’t going to take being pushed around anymore.</span>
  </em>
  <span>"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Another worker scowled, "</span>
  <em>
    <span>This is </span>
  </em>
  <span>our </span>
  <em>
    <span>holiday, this was </span>
  </em>
  <span>our </span>
  <em>
    <span>accomplishment! They don't get to push us around! We're humans, damn it! It was about time we stood up for ourselves!</span>
  </em>
  <span>"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>A sailor shook her fist, on the verge of tears, "</span>
  <em>
    <span>They wiped out everything we ever loved! They tried to kill us all! And after all that, on </span>
  </em>
  <span>our </span>
  <em>
    <span>holiday, they try and push us around? No sir, I won't take it!</span>
  </em>
  <span>"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The feed cut to an interview of a group of Shade workers, also in a similar battered state. A Tribune with a black eye and a broken arm shrugged, "</span>
  <em>
    <span>Who knows with those tiny heads of theirs? They should know their place. It's stuff like this that keeps you freaks down on the evolutionary ladder!</span>
  </em>
  <span>"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Hey, it’s not their fault they’re a bunch of idiots. Damn Triarchs keep everyone down. We’ll get them properly educated once they’re out of the way,</span>
  </em>
  <span>” said another.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>What, you think that’ll help? Look at what they did today! Harvest their exceptional minds I say, then cut the rest of ‘em loose.</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>They cut to an interview of a human EVA engineer, his face covered with soot, "</span>
  <em>
    <span>They've been pushing us around since we got here! The bastards expect us to bow to them! Rally might do that, but not us! We fought till the end!</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>A Marine scowled at the camera, “</span>
  <em>
    <span>Damn aliens. So they’re not all bastards, so what? They still killed everyone!</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>There were more Shade interviewees, “</span>
  <em>
    <span>That human deserves to be shot. They all do. We take them into our home, and they repay us with this? We oughta space all of em!</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Exceptional minds or not, they still shot somebody!</span>
  </em>
  <span>” said another.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>I don’t have anything against client races, but this is just what happens when you let the inexperienced into space. Nothing against them, I have lots of Client friends, but I wouldn’t trust them with a cup of water let alone a spacecraft! This was bound to happen!</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>They cut to another Marine. He glanced around the Central Three corridor. He had his visor up, and rubbed his nose, “</span>
  <em>
    <span>Tribunes are dangerous. It’s nothing personal, it’s just fact. Look at what happened today! This was just a riot, and then one of them decided to attack the commander! If we hadn’t returned fire, we’d all be dead.</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>But Private, what exactly </span>
  </em>
  <span>happened</span>
  <em>
    <span>?</span>
  </em>
  <span>” The reporter asked, “</span>
  <em>
    <span>Did you see? Why did Commander Afolabi fire? Did you see any reason to</span>
  </em>
  <span>?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The Marine opened his mouth, and hesitated, “</span>
  <em>
    <span>No, I didn’t see it.</span>
  </em>
  <span>” He looked at his boots, then back up, “</span>
  <em>
    <span>But we all heard the shot. And we didn’t fire first. One of those bastards turned to fire at one of us when they were supposed to be helping us. I just reacted.</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The Marine's voice faded out as the anchor narrated, "</span>
  <em>
    <span>Vicious sentiments, to be sure. These people are angry, hurt, and lashing out. But as we investigated, we found that feelings toward one another were deeper than they appeared.</span>
  </em>
  <span>"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The feed cut to the reporter interviewing a Tribune dock worker, “</span>
  <em>
    <span>Ah-fo-lobby? Is that her name?</span>
  </em>
  <span>” The worker shrugged, “</span>
  <em>
    <span>What do I care if she’s a human? She saved our butts! The damned cargo loaders, and that </span>
  </em>
  <span>damned</span>
  <em>
    <span> shuttle jockey nearly killed us all,</span>
  </em>
  <span>” he scratched his chin, “</span>
  <em>
    <span>if it hadn’t been for her, I’d have a crowbar in my head or I’d be sucking vacuum right now.</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The reporter nodded, “</span>
  <em>
    <span>But what about the security staff who were killed in the initial altercations? Initial reports say Commander Afolabi’s actions were in self-defense, but some blame her for worsening the crisis. And we know her decision to fire resulted in several firefights that killed numerous people on both sides. What do you have to say about that? Does that change your opinion?</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The Tribune almost snorted, “</span>
  <em>
    <span>Hell no. Company guards are a bunch of thugs. Don’t matter if we’re in Compact space or out here. They’re company rent-a-cops. I was at the Massacre of Bezas III. Trust me, you don’t trust anyone in a mine or a shipwomb with a gun.</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>I haven't heard of that. Was that a military conflict</span>
  </em>
  <span>?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>No</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
  <em>
    <span> It </span>
  </em>
  <span>wasn’t</span>
  <em>
    <span>,</span>
  </em>
  <span>” The Tribune glowered, “</span>
  <em>
    <span>You don’t trust rent-a-cops.</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The footage switched to an interview of a Pedlar, who looked a bit shocked. “</span>
  <em>
    <span>What? That was a human? Well...why are you asking me? I mean...sure, she saved our lives, but that’s nothing special, right? Not all of us can have exceptional minds.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Another switch with the footage, to one of the medical bays. A Thoughtful doctor wiped sweat(or his species thereof) from their head, and glared at the camera, “</span>
  <em>
    <span>We’re still here and there’s a lot of people who would be </span>
  </em>
  <span>dead</span>
  <em>
    <span> without us. That should answer all your questions.</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>A human worker with a bandaged head shrugged, "</span>
  <em>
    <span>I jumped into an emergency shelter, and I saw someone drifting by in the smoke. The G had cut, it was smoky, I didn't see who it was, or how big. I just grabbed his coveralls and pulled him in. I didn't know it was one of them! Turned out to be pretty darn useful though. We're only alive because we worked together.</span>
  </em>
  <span>"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>An avian creature, one of the other minor species through the Compact, was shown in a bed in a medical ward, “</span>
  <em>
    <span>...I was trapped under wreckage in Central One. I thought it was going to die. The others were running away, and...I heard her voice. She got the others to stop, and they dug us out. I didn’t know Broken could be that good. Hell, I didn’t know </span>
  </em>
  <span>anyone</span>
  <em>
    <span> could be that good. Even for exceptional minds...</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The footage snapped to a human in a medical ward, “</span>
  <em>
    <span>She didn’t have to wait, but she came back for me. The plating was about to fail, but she came back for me. I didn’t know Tribunes could be kind. That...that woman, that </span>
  </em>
  <span>Tribune</span>
  <em>
    <span> has my thanks.</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>They cut to a hangar bay, where a Tribune engineer stood in the foreground in front of the remains of a rescue ball. He was disheveled, exhausted, and rubbed his face irritably, “</span>
  <em>
    <span>What kind of a question is that? Just cuz I saved him doesn’t mean I'd want something like him to marry my sister! I don’t know why I saved him, I just-- Look, even you freaks don’t deserve to die like that!</span>
  </em>
  <span>” He crossed his arms, “</span>
  <em>
    <span>Bastard took the biggest piece of lint, anyway…</span>
  </em>
  <span>” His eyes widened as he realized what he said, “</span>
  <em>
    <span>It was a low oxygen environment, he showed me this ‘fizzbin’ game, we were betting with anything in our pockets, that was lint, and one thing led to another-- </span>
  </em>
  <span>it just made sense in context</span>
  <em>
    <span>, alright?</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>There was feed from a Thoughtful supervisor, “</span>
  <em>
    <span>As exceptional minds go, the commander did her best. But I think that was just blind luck. She did cause the whole thing to erupt, after all. Saving the station doesn’t make up for trying to kill someone.</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>A human worker was shown outside an emergency shelter area, “</span>
  <em>
    <span>It’s tough, but even if some of them aren’t so bad, that doesn’t mean we gotta like em. These aren’t Commies anyway. They’re different. Some of them are good people. Others not so much.</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Another Shade creature, "</span>
  <em>
    <span>I guess even Broken have their bright spots. This goes beyond exceptional minds, those humans saved our lives. Some of them, like your people, I guess they're alright.</span>
  </em>
  <span>"</span>
  <em>
    
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Moreno tilted her head, odd thoughts rushing through her mind. “How’d they get enough people to agree to be interviewed?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Mrowka grimaced, “They’ve got a lot of outtakes.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"</span>
  <em>
    <span>Our reporters found some interesting stories and some surprises."</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>A human woman and a Pedlar female sat at a bar passing one of the few vacuum-sealed alcohol containers they had left between the two of them. The human raised the bottle drunkenly to the camera with a grin, and the bartender waved.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Two humans and an insectoid creature sat on a bench, each covered in bandages. They looked mutually uncomfortable, with the insectoid squirming every time their arm touched the human's, and the humans flinching at the alien's legs. All three looked happy to be alive.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>A Navy corpsman performed desperate CPR on a Thoughtful on the deck. He did compressions, then checked the Shade-owned medical unit beside him. He grew more frantic as the Thoughtful's eyes remained closed.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>A Worker carried a human being in their arms, heedless of the blood on their uniform, through a swarm of medics and snapping at anyone who tried to take the unmoving form from their grasp.</span>
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The anchor came back onscreen. “</span>
  <em>
    <span>Things aren’t always as cut and dry as they seem. Whereat first we see hostility and anger, from the initial engagements, it seems that things have, for lack of a better term, de-escalated. While hostilities still exist, there exist a noticeable amount of people on both sides of the conflict expressing some degree of sympathy toward the other. We spoke with several senior officials to find out more.</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The feed cut to a more formal interview, with Ms. Saitou sitting in front of a Tribune in a space station office. The words "</span>
  <em>
    <span>Senior Supervisor Corlund, major official aboard Shade L4 Drydock Three</span>
  </em>
  <span>" appeared at the bottom of the screen. He didn't appear uncomfortable talking to the humans, as so many Tribunes could be. He seemed perfectly agreeable.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Mr. Corlund, no one can seem to agree on what happened, and why exactly it did. Can you shed some light for us? From what we know, his altercation began as a fistfight that quickly erupted into an enormous riot. How did a fistfight spawn this?</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Corlund spoke, "</span>
  <em>
    <span>As far as we can tell, there were plenty of existing tensions. Unfortunately, this has been the case for some time between species from the Compact. Those tensions are the only explanation I can come up with for how this became a riot.</span>
  </em>
  <span>"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Saitou nodded, "</span>
  <em>
    <span>Can you expand more on these tensions? While they didn't seem intentionally lethal, it's interesting that despite the Compact's professed equality and guidance, that these tensions would not only exist but be enough to cause these outbursts.</span>
  </em>
  <span>"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Corlund put his hands together in his lap with fingers interlaced, "</span>
  <em>
    <span>Part of this is certainly due to the current Triarchs. They want us to fight each other to keep us from thinking about them. That's why we're out here, after all. But race riots tend to happen no matter where you are. There are always tensions between races, that’s just a fact. The question is whether or not they’ve been exaggerated.</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Moreno rolled her eyes. Beside her, Mrowka wanted to throw something at the screen.</span>
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Now, just because we’re Unbound, there’s going to be a lot of anger. We’re all mad, and that’s why we’re out here. It’s going to be understandable that tensions are going to be pretty high. We’re all confused and angry, and we don’t know what we’re doing next. We’re all doing things we didn’t think we’d do, I mean we’ve got a Principality representative here</span>
  </em>
  <span>.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>But why did the workers start fighting? Why did the conflict get so bad?</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Corlund adjusted in his seat, “</span>
  <em>
    <span>That’s a good question. We’ve been having a lot of discipline concerns lately. There have been reports of scuffles, arguments, and things like that. There was apprehension that it might break out into a riot, but we didn’t believe it would get this bad.</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Arguments about what? Was there a particular reason for them?</span>
  </em>
  <span>” Saitou asked.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Corlund shifted again, “</span>
  <em>
    <span>The largest number of reports were between Broken and Tribunes, but the largest isn’t the majority. Thirty percent, I think. The rest of the causes were each roughly five to ten percent of the exchanges. So that adds up to a hundred, you see.</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Yes, I understand percentages,” </span>
  </em>
  <span>Saitou pressed further, “</span>
  <em>
    <span>What were these scuffles? Were there any details on them?</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Corlund frowned, “</span>
  <em>
    <span>The reports talked mostly about petty scuffles, very minor. I mean, this whole thing is ridiculous. I don’t understand why they have to do this. People died.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Who’s ‘they’?</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Corlund grimaced, “</span>
  <em>
    <span>The rioters. I honestly don’t understand why they got so angry over this. It’s just irrational.</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Do you think they have reason to be angry? In the Compact, Ruling races enjoy unrestricted privileges compared to Client races. Several species aren’t even allowed to command starships. Some nations have Tribunes commanding their defense fleets. People in this system have documented numerous violations of the Compact’s oldest laws, and the Articles of the Compact. They have no independence, no control of anything. Isn’t this reason to be angry?</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Corlund’s frown deepened, “</span>
  <em>
    <span>Yes, there is reason to be angry, but there’s no need to hurt people trying to help.</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Several individuals we interviewed didn’t seem to agree with that attitude. They saw this alliance as the bare minimum that could be done, and that the Shade Flotilla doesn’t care. There’s been a lot of insults back and forth. The Shade Flotilla workers appeared resentful toward humans and other Client races. Even if they’re trying to help, that’s not very kind, is it?</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Corlund looked away, “</span>
  <em>
    <span>It’s just words. What do they matter? Surely they heard them growing up.</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Surely enduring something doesn’t make it right.</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>But what’s the problem? It’s the cold equations. Broken are inherently inferior to Tribunes. There’s nothing meant to be insulting about that, it’s just fact. Your eyesight can’t match ours, for instance, you’re much smaller and physically weaker, and your ancestors could not manage their own planet. Now don’t get me wrong. The Triarchs exaggerate things, this much is true. There are areas in which species can match one another, and where we’re less different than we appear. They don’t want us to realize that a Didact could be just as intelligent as a Thoughtful for example. But sometimes you can just see it. Look at you and I. Look at these differences, surely you can acknowledge these differences.</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>So you claim inherent racial differences are the reason for this conflict?</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>I suppose they are when you get down to the minutiae. It doesn’t really matter, does it?</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Saitou nodded in acknowledgment, “</span>
  <em>
    <span>What are your thoughts on Commander Afolabi’s actions?</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Corlund’s attitude shifted, “</span>
  <em>
    <span>She clearly overreacted. I don’t know what your leaders were thinking, putting someone like that in charge of any kind of starship, and having her lead those workers over here as well. She and those soldiers of hers were so unnecessarily confrontational it makes my head spin! Anger shouldn’t be expressed like this. It should be put to more constructive purposes.</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The feed changed to an interview in what looked like a dropship passenger compartment. Saitou sat across from a Marine captain in combat armor. “</span>
  <em>
    <span>UECMC Cpt. Mayamiko Gupta, company commander</span>
  </em>
  <span>” appeared at the bottom. She was the officer in charge of the company that protected the human workers on the spacedock.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Ms. Saitou asked, “</span>
  <em>
    <span>Captain, no one can seem to agree on what happened, and why. Can you shed some light for us? From what we can gather, this altercation began as a fistfight that quickly erupted into an enormous riot that nearly cost the lives of everyone on this space station. How did a fistfight spawn this?</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Gupta put her hands in front of her, “</span>
  <em>
    <span>First of all, I'd like to say my entire unit saw this was coming. The pressure was building for some time, and the Shades should have listened to our warnings.</span>
  </em>
  <span>"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"</span>
  <em>
    <span>Can you explain what you mean? How did a fistfight turn into this?</span>
  </em>
  <span>"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>We’ve gotten reports of disciplinary problems and disputes since we docked with this facility. Their people and ours really don’t get along. They’ve been insulting workers, obstructing and inhibiting productivity with discriminatory behavior, there have been fights. As I said, pressure has been building. But what set it off is that It’s Unification Day. This is the first time we’ve celebrated it since leaving Tau Ceti, and people are angry. Everyone’s already plenty angry for obvious reasons. They’re grieving and hurt. Holidays can be a big trigger for this sort of thing. Tensions are running high, everyone’s drunk, everyone’s angry, and everyone's an idiot. We tried to warn thee Shades and they didn’t listen.</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It was a much shorter and more succinct version of the story, Moreno noted. </span>
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"</span>
  <em>
    <span>For our viewers who aren't in the know, while we're well aware of the Compact's cruelty, what you're describing is on a smaller level. Can you expand on that? When you say racism, do you mean microaggressions?</span>
  </em>
  <span>"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"</span>
  <em>
    <span>Oh no, I'm talking</span>
  </em>
  <span> about macro</span>
  <em>
    <span>aggressions. I'm talking slurs, hate speech, assault, vandalization, the works. One of my guys said a group of 'em were two steps away from a Klan outfit. Beyond their former nation's overall politics, there's a huge cultural problem. They aren't Compact anymore, I want to make that clear, and they're certainly on our side, but they have yet to completely get rid of their racist b...uh...nonsense.</span>
  </em>
  <span>"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Gupta shook her head, "</span>
  <em>
    <span>They call us 'Broken'. That's a </span>
  </em>
  <span>slur</span>
  <em>
    <span>. That is all it is, a slur. It's no better than...than…</span>
  </em>
  <span>" she tried to say the word, then shook her head again, "</span>
  <em>
    <span>Than that filthy word starting with 'N'. And I heard them say...the 'B' word every five minutes whenever I left my command post. I think one wanted to segregate our work crews. Staff was told to go away, and that certain areas were for Tribunes only, or were just lied to because they were human. That ‘sorry we’re all out’ sh...nonsense, then they’d turn around and give plenty to the next guy. We had a lot of petty thefts and vandalism. A lot of 'Broken go home' sh...stuff. And that's not to mention the...incidents we had to clean up.</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Incidents</span>
  </em>
  <span>?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Let me put it this way; rope burns on human and Tribune necks. This is an </span>
  </em>
  <span>incredibly</span>
  <em>
    <span> hostile work environment. Genocide is one thing, but sometimes it's the little things that get you. This sh...stuff is a power move. It always is. They say it's no big deal, but if it's no big deal, </span>
  </em>
  <span>why can't they stop doing it</span>
  <em>
    <span>? As if it wasn't bad enough for trying to wipe us out, they can't even spare us basic dignity.</span>
  </em>
  <span>"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"</span>
  <em>
    <span>You sound angry, Captain,</span>
  </em>
  <span>" the reporter commented dryly.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Gupta rubbed her brow, "</span>
  <em>
    <span>Don't get me wrong. This wasn't supposed to happen. I'm just saying that they should have seen it coming. They were all idiots because as much as I understand where they're coming from, this poses a huge threat to the alliance.</span>
  </em>
  <span>"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>What do you think of the Commander’s actions?</span>
  </em>
  <span>” Saitou asked.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Gupta grimaced, “</span>
  <em>
    <span>Well things went to hell in a handbasket, that’s for sure. </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Saitou summarized, "</span>
  <em>
    <span>So it was grief, the proximity of the holiday bringing hatred of the Compact to the surface, augmented by alcohol that started the riot. Yet despite all these macroaggressions, the riot ended peacefully. Despite the hatred and animosity, rescue parties found the workers working together, helping one another regardless of the species. How is this possible?</span>
  </em>
  <span>"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Gupta let out a breath, and some of her hostility faded. She leaned back, "</span>
  <em>
    <span>Most people don't realize how dangerous space is. Like the sea, air travel, or the highway, it'll never be completely safe. But every spacer knows that when there's a hull breach nothing matters but the people next to you. It's a Spacer Truce. They happen sometimes. Nothing else matters but sealing that hole and getting everyone out as quickly as possible.</span>
  </em>
  <span>"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Suddenly, the feed cut back to Corlund. His initial discomfort had faded, and they had asked him the same question. "</span>
  <em>
    <span>Sometimes empathy overpowers hostility. It happens in war and peace. Soldiers will unite because there's something bigger than their little shootouts. It's a strange thing, and wildly unpredictable at times. It can be something as simple as ceasing fire to recover bodies or as extreme as a truce for a holiday. In space, especially with civilians, this is particularly prevalent. There's no mercy out there, all you have are the sapients beside you.</span>
  </em>
  <span>"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Gupta reappeared and leaned forward. "</span>
  <em>
    <span>We all breathe the same air, no matter what we think.</span>
  </em>
  <span>"</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The feed finally cut back to the anchor, </span>
  <em>
    <span>"'We all breathe the same air, no matter what we think'. Despite the trauma of the war, we can all agree on that. Workers, Marines, and janissaries all worked together to save the space station, no matter how much they'd been fighting. As an unexpected result, it seems that tensions are different from what they were before this incident. We have men and women, with skin, scales, and fur, people who had been trying to beat each other senseless, now sharing drinks and shedding tears over mutual dead. Questions remain on our minds. Is it a bond brought on by the mutual trauma when faced with the awe-inspiring power of nature, or is it just catharsis? Was this truly a misunderstanding? Will this alliance hold together? The sympathetic voices say yes to the last question, but the future is anyone’s guess. Even for people like us.</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>
  <span>They started to go onto Afolabi's trial, but Moreno turned the feed off.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>The PE Network...</span>
  </em>
  <span>These were the remnants of humanity's vast news and communication networks, one of a handful of the various organizations that had survived. They were the legacies of countless reporters who dove into danger headfirst with pencil or pen and paper, tape recorders, or digital cameras, in the name of the truth or for profit. Brave and foolhardy individuals who recorded great victories and terrible defeats, who witnessed the best and worst of the world. The PE Network legacy ran from the colonial skirmishes before the Unification Wars to the Fall of Saber Point. It didn't matter if civilization had fallen, their origins lay in hand cameras and recorders on sub-light starships years away from home. Spacer reporters knew their jobs, even if there were no headquarters to report to. Moreno was proud to have them along. It was one more shred of that life they'd known, that world the Compact tried to annihilate.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Moreno shook her head out of contemplating yawning existential horror as Mrowka frowned, "They keep saying 'exceptional mind' over and over, what does that--?"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Microaggression."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"... Jesus Christ." Mrowka rubbed her brow.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Moreno’s PDA chirped. She checked it and found a message from one of her aides, "</span>
  <em>
    <span>Admiral, Commander Afolabi has arrived.</span>
  </em>
  <span>"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Moreno looked at Mrowka, who nodded and stood up, “I gotta get back on the bridge anyway. Give my regards to the commander.” She walked out the door.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Moreno picked up her PDA as soon as the door was closed, “You can put Ms. Kaitet through, now.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Aye, ma’am.</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The briefing room monitor activated and Chief Executive Privateer Kaitet appeared, thankfully alone this time. “</span>
  <em>
    <span>Admiral Moreno.</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Ms. Kaitet,” Moreno nodded politely. The ambassador and the president weren’t here, but the former had given her recommendations and the latter his blessing to negotiate as she saw fit. For now. This was a human-to-Tribune talk. They had to at least pretend Moreno was the only authority. They had to keep up the pirate charade after all. "How are you today?"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"</span>
  <em>
    <span>Looking forward to finishing this. When is Afolabi due to arrive?</span>
  </em>
  <span>"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Moreno checked her watch. In the back of her mind, she realized even this simple device, with only minimal holo functions and controls, was beyond primitive to the greater galaxy. "They should be arriving soon…"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The door opened. Commander Afolabi was brought into the briefing room, along with her lawyer to be confronted with the two most frightening visuals in the universe. Her superior officer, and the enemy's superior officer on the viewscreen. The commander’s breath quickened, her eyes darting across Kaitet’s outfit, to her claws and her eyes. Even on a display, a Tribune was terrifying at times.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Commander,” Moreno said and walked forward.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Afolabi snapped out of it; she stood to attention and saluted, “Admiral Moreno.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Commander. At ease. What happened? I got your report, but I want to hear it from you.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The auxiliary officer stood at ease. The lawyer, a member of the UEC’s Judge Advocate Corps(or what was left of it), cleared his throat, “Admiral, I will speak on behalf of my client. While she was trying to deal with a riot, the commander was struck by Security Chief Shok. On instinct, she pulled her weapon and fired. The shot provoked somebody to fire before she could regain control of the situation. I’m not sure she should say anything else until we can take this to a general court-martial--”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Why did you fire</span>
  </em>
  <span>?” Kaitet snapped from the screen, “</span>
  <em>
    <span>You fired on a bare-handed opponent, and caused a massacre that could’ve nearly started a shooting war</span>
  </em>
  <span>!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Afolabi’s head twitched back ever so slightly. A bead of sweat traveled down her forehead and she said nothing.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Commander, please, why did you fire?” Moreno asked.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The lawyer spoke, “Admiral, with all due respect, I’m not sure my client should answer that until we’re before a military court. This is the sort of thing we need to settle by rule of law, not with…” He eyed Kaitet, “...whatever law these sorts of people use.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Moreno frowned, “Which laws we’re working with is exactly what we’re trying to figure out, advocate. We’re in a bit of hot water here…”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Kaitet gave the admiral the side-eye at the idiom, but looked at the lawyer, “</span>
  <em>
    <span>My organization is well-known for fair and speedy trials</span>
  </em>
  <span>.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Can you confirm that they’re fair? How do I know my client won’t be executed out of hand because she’s inconvenient?” the judge advocate asked.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>How do we know </span>
  </em>
  <span>you’ll</span>
  <em>
    <span> be fair</span>
  </em>
  <span>?” Kaitet countered, "</span>
  <em>
    <span>That’s big legal talk. Are you saying you’re a government now</span>
  </em>
  <span>?" </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Why didn't you make </span>
  <em>
    <span>yourselves </span>
  </em>
  <span>a government?” the advocate asked, and narrowed his gaze.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Advocate, should we even have a trial?” Moreno asked, and looked at Kaitet, “My people can try her if necessary, but do you really want to go through a trial between our systems? I don’t think your people will be happy with anything less than her head if we do.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Kaitet nodded begrudgingly, “</span>
  <em>
    <span>I suppose we may want to just come to an arrangement. It might be less of a headache,</span>
  </em>
  <span>” she scowled, “</span>
  <em>
    <span>But it won’t bring our people back. Our arrangement has to have </span>
  </em>
  <span>justice.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Commander? What do you want, exactly?” the advocate asked.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Afolabi looked down at her feet, silent through the conversation. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Pretty speedy trial…</span>
  </em>
  
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Commander?” Moreno asked.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Put the bi...the puppy on trial. She’s still breathing isn’t she?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>She is, thank the gods</span>
  </em>
  <span>,” Kaitet growled, “</span>
  <em>
    <span>It’s a miracle we saved her arm</span>
  </em>
  <span>.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Afolabi didn’t comment, thankfully. “I was defending myself.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>You don’t defend yourself like that with attempted murder</span>
  </em>
  <span>,” Kaitet said. The humans all looked at her. She was taken aback, “</span>
  <em>
    <span>What</span>
  </em>
  <span>?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“If we were to take this to court, I wouldn’t expect an outcome like that. I’d expect confinement of some sort depending on how the judge was feeling,” the advocate said slowly, “Afolabi’s response wasn’t completely irrational.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>What are you? Savages? She used lethal force on my security officer</span>
  </em>
  <span>!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“She’s not </span>
  <em>
    <span>dead</span>
  </em>
  <span> is she?” Afolabi demanded.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The advocate shook his head, “Commander, please…”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Moreno grimaced, “Ms. Kaitet, that’s not the issue here. The issue here is the rest of the casualties--”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Kaitet was befuddled. What was wrong with them? “</span>
  <em>
    <span>Admiral, even if it was in self-defense, all I saw on the feed was Shok trying to </span>
  </em>
  <span>punch</span>
  <em>
    <span> her, not to kill her. The commander could’ve killed </span>
  </em>
  <span>her</span>
  <em>
    <span>, and a bunch of my staff is dead because of her actions</span>
  </em>
  <span>.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The humans were puzzled again. The advocate scratched his head, “She could’ve killed the commander, too.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Aren’t you being a little dramatic? Humans are pretty durable, from what I hear. I mean, okay, she might have </span>
  </em>
  <span>risked</span>
  <em>
    <span> it…</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Moreno shook her head as a feeling of anger welled up. The others were mad too. “In our experience, the only non-lethal Tribune is dead. An unarmed Tribune is just a Tribune without ranged weaponry.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Kaitet furrowed her brow, “</span>
  <em>
    <span>Excuse me</span>
  </em>
  <span>?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“It’s a well-known fact that Tribunes indiscriminately target non-combatants and units no longer capable of fighting,” the advocate said as if reciting a dissertation, “In combat, Tribune infantry will feign surrender and then attack even at the cost of their own lives.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Kaitet tilted her head, “Excuse </span>
  <em>
    <span>me</span>
  </em>
  <span>?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“We’ve all seen it before, Ms. Kaitet,” Moreno said calmly, “And I happen to know that some of your combat manuals haven’t changed in 2,000 years when it comes to surrendering.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I</span>
  <em>
    <span> wasn’t-- that--</span>
  </em>
  <span>” Kaitet's voice sounded like her connection had malfunctioned. She winced, </span>
  <em>
    <span>“...I mean I...I suppose...”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I was on the </span>
  <em>
    <span>Machinist</span>
  </em>
  <span>,” Afolabi snarled, “She was just a mobile drydock, she only had point-defense guns, and one of your cruisers played target practice with us. Don’t </span>
  <em>
    <span>tell</span>
  </em>
  <span> me that mutt wasn’t trying to kill me!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Kaitet sputtered, “</span>
  <em>
    <span>But...look, that may be true, but Shok’s not military, she wouldn’t do that! And you humans aren’t </span>
  </em>
  <span>that</span>
  <em>
    <span> fragile--</span>
  </em>
  <span>!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The advocate suddenly interrupted, “Pardon me, but it may not be either of their faults.” They looked back at him. He nodded, “Hand-to-hand combat training for UEC personnel insists that you </span>
  <em>
    <span>avoid </span>
  </em>
  <span>hand-to-hand combat with a Tribune. Priority is to find a weapon and use it immediately. Commander Afolabi, like all Navy personnel, is trained to kill or incapacitate, those are standard ROE. Chief Shok was lucky Afolabi even gave a warning, and I think that’s only due to her </span>
  <em>
    <span>lack</span>
  </em>
  <span> of combat experience. If she had ever been in a boarding action, the shot would’ve gone through Shok’s skull. Training is everything. This is no different than if someone had picked a bar fight with her.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>At the inquiring looks, he spread his hands, “I’ve dealt with some cases like this. I had a case where a Marine accidentally killed a civilian in a bar fight. The Marine was experienced, and the civilian struck first. The Marine wasn’t thinking, he just reacted, and did as he was trained; kill or subdue the enemy by any means necessary. It wasn't a conscious choice, he just did as he was trained. So he just got off with manslaughter charges and time in prison.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Humans aren’t </span>
  </em>
  <span>that</span>
  <em>
    <span> delicate…</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“We can lose an arm and keep fighting or fall a flight of stairs and be incapacitated for six weeks. Trust me, durability is confusing even for us,” the advocate said, “And as the admiral said, this isn’t what we’re here for. We’re here primarily for the Marine-related-casualties. Are we going to go to trial over this, or not?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>I am concerned about your objectivity</span>
  </em>
  <span>,” Kaitet said, “</span>
  <em>
    <span>I am well-aware of how brutal we can be, but-</span>
  </em>
  <span>-”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The advocate looked at her, “With all due respect, Ms. Kaitet, I’m one of your best bets in this case. I’ve defended Tribunes before. I may be defending Commander Afolabi, but I am well aware of how the law works.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Moreno looked at him. She remembered the advocate’s record now. Early in the war, they hadn’t realized how systemic the false Compact surrenders could be. Command was concerned that surrendering Tribunes had been executed for amusement, rather than a genuine threat. For a public that hadn’t seen war in generations, this would look very bad. Furthermore, it would have given the green light to the enemy to commit harsher acts, as is typical whenever the rules of war are broken. This advocate was one of those who defended the handful of Tribune survivors in finding the truth. The war dragged on though, and they discovered perfidy was a guideline to the Compact, not an exception. However, even as war crimes mounted, this advocate was one of those who still upheld the law when it came to alien war criminals. Because those exceptions </span>
  <em>
    <span>did</span>
  </em>
  <span> exist.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Kaitet studied him, "</span>
  <em>
    <span>You're saying you're an actual lawyer</span>
  </em>
  <span>?"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Last I checked."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"I</span>
  <em>
    <span> didn't know B-- humans could defend Tribunes.</span>
  </em>
  <span>"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Sometimes we have to."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Kaitet grimaced, "</span>
  <em>
    <span>Very well</span>
  </em>
  <span>," She looked at the admiral, "</span>
  <em>
    <span>Now, about the Janissaries...the Marines</span>
  </em>
  <span>."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"They're currently in the brig," Moreno said, "They're facing manslaughter at best."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“All of them reported that they only heard the gunshot, they didn’t see it. They reacted to a threat as they were trained to, as far as we can tell,” the advocate said.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Kaitet nodded, "</span>
  <em>
    <span>From what my analysts and experts have determined...that's exactly the kind of legal charges we'd apply. Some of us would at least. We checked the security tapes. It was pretty close, but one of our guards was the first to fire. He heard a gunshot and his first instinct was to fire not into the crowd, but at the nearest human that he could find. He committed a crime of passion, I believe is the term. His record indicated bias against humans. As you said, your soldiers are well-trained. I’d be surprised if return fire </span>
  </em>
  <span>wasn’t</span>
  <em>
    <span> their reaction</span>
  </em>
  <span>.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“They aren’t meant to be police. They are trained in subduing crowds with a minimum of force, but they have only a few settings. Subdue unarmed opponents, and neutralize armed ones. They reacted as their training dictated.” The advocate said.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Kaitet nodded again sourly, “</span>
  <em>
    <span>And one of my people fired first. </span>
  </em>
  <span>After</span>
  <em>
    <span> the commander did, of course</span>
  </em>
  <span>.” She looked down at the floor for a moment, “</span>
  <em>
    <span>It’s rather convenient that your training excuses this</span>
  </em>
  <span>.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“It’s an explanation, not an excuse,” Moreno said, “Now, I’ve consulted with my senior staff,” code for ‘the president and the entire judicial branch’, “...And we have a proposition. We can either go for a mixed trial and risk god-knows-what kind of damage of every sort you can imagine, plus who knows how many fights and disputes, or we can compromise. We pay some reparations to one another, then we each take our people into our custody, and try them the way we see fit in our courts. We’ll also keep the parties involved in the shooting separate from the other faction from now on. No one’s happy, but at least we’re not killing each other.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>This may cause some trouble Admiral,</span>
  </em>
  <span>" Kaitet commented, "</span>
  <em>
    <span>As you said, no one’s going to be happy.</span>
  </em>
  <span>"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“We’ll find </span>
  <em>
    <span>some</span>
  </em>
  <span> way to placate them. My people suggest that we charge our people quietly, but keep playing up the accident aspect as we’ve been doing. I mean, it technically </span>
  <em>
    <span>was</span>
  </em>
  <span>.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Technically</span>
  </em>
  <span>,” Kaitet nodded curtly, “</span>
  <em>
    <span>Very well, Admiral. I’ll get back to you once I talk with my staff</span>
  </em>
  <span>.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Moreno nodded, “Very well.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The feed cut and the room was silent. Moreno slowly turned to Commander Afolabi, who stood at ease looking at her boots.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Commander.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Sons of bitches...I was defending myself!” She hissed, and flinched, “Wish I had aimed </span>
  <em>
    <span>slightly</span>
  </em>
  <span> to the right.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Commander,” Moreno said harshly, and the officer looked up.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yes, ma’am?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’m not happy.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I guessed that ma’am.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Do you know what kind of a mess this has made?” Moreno demanded, “How’d you even get that deep in the first place? I know you’re a hands-on commander, but your trigger-happy escort put a dozen bodies in the morgue, and could’ve gotten the </span>
  <em>
    <span>rest</span>
  </em>
  <span> of us killed! The only reason you still have </span>
  <em>
    <span>Hecla</span>
  </em>
  <span> is that we need every warm body we can get, and you’re the most senior member of the auxiliaries we have left. That is the </span>
  <em>
    <span>only</span>
  </em>
  <span> reason I’m not busting you down to E-1!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Afolabi flinched again. Her gaze wavered between looking at her superior and her feet.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Commander, what were you thinking? You reacted, but you shouldn’t have been there in the first place! I’m willing to bet those Marines thought they were protecting you, and now, we’ve got to put them through a court-martial! They don’t have the same protection you do!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“We’re not going to kick them out of the service, we don’t have that luxury,” the advocate said quickly, “But it’s certainly going to be a challenge. They’re probably going to get off light, considering the jury, but it </span>
  <em>
    <span>will</span>
  </em>
  <span> remain on their records.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Moreno took a deep breath, nodded politely at the advocate, and looked back at Afolabi, “Commander, do you have anything to say for yourself?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Afolabi glanced at the advocate, who scratched the back of his head. She looked at Moreno, “Admiral, permission to speak freely?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Moreno seriously considered saying no. “Permission granted.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Afolabi’s composure flashed, replaced with a look of sheer </span>
  <em>
    <span>hatred</span>
  </em>
  <span>, “What do you want me to say? Do you want me to apologize to those flea-ridden </span>
  <em>
    <span>mutts</span>
  </em>
  <span>? I wish I’d aimed a bit lower! She tried to kill me and I defended myself!” Afolabi looked away from Moreno, “Why do </span>
  <em>
    <span>they </span>
  </em>
  <span>get to be happy? Why are they on top? They can just go on by, laugh at us, and call us names, and we can’t do a thing? Motherfuckers, they played target practice with tubs like mine for ten years, then any time we hit back, they start whining about ‘war crimes’ this, and ‘casualties’ that? Fuck that! All I did was touch her stupid jacket and she nearly took my head off! They strut around like they're better than us, the freaks, but we’re better than them! Do you know these rats don't even have unions? Scab-ass motherfuckers don't have any brains! They go around calling us Broken, they mock us, like we're nothing! We're better than they are and they think we're scum! But we killed plenty of them, and we’re still here!"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She laughed disturbingly, then screwed up her face and scowled, “Apologies Admiral.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Moreno frowned. “Apology accepted, Commander. You’re to stay aboard the ship until the court-martial is concluded.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“My XO has already been informed, ma’am,” Afolabi said quietly.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Dismissed, Commander.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Afolabi went to attention, saluted, and turned on her heel. The advocate did the same and followed her out. Moreno let out a breath and sat down at the table. She took out a PDA and wrote an email to sickbay. Even if the commander was going to go back on duty after the court-martial(which in all likelihood, she was), Moreno wouldn’t allow her without psychological counseling.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“‘Why do they get to be happy?’” she muttered to herself, and glanced at the closed door again, “Good question, Commander.” She spared a glance at her battered LSCS-23 mug. “Good question…”</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0016"><h2>16. The Road I must Travel</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>"So when thirsty I will drink <br/>When hungry I will steal <br/>But the road I must travel <br/>Its end I cannot see </p>
<p>So tonight I walk in anger <br/>With worn shoes on my feet <br/>And the road I must travel <br/>Its end I cannot see </p>
<p>And I will sing to myself <br/>That I'm gonna be free <br/>But the road I must travel <br/>Its end I cannot see..."<br/>- The Road I Must Travel, The Nightwatchman</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>A Compact courier drone shocked back into normal space. It appeared on the edge of a minor system, made up of a few rocks and a gas giant. A space installation orbited the gas giant. A destroyer, a frigate, and a light cruiser, formerly of the Compact, watched over the system.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The drone made no effort to hide. It broadcast its transmission as loudly as possible. “</span>
  <em>
    <span>This is a message under a flag of peace intended for representatives of the Shade Flotilla…</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The Shade destroyer closed to real-time communication range with the drone and cautiously opened up communications to receive the message. Minutes later, the destroyer spat a message at its fellows elsewhere in the system, turned its tail sunward, and burned for all it was worth. Several light-hours later, the other two burned away from the sun.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>All three vessels made it to shock limits just before several squadrons of Compact Space Force starships shocked in.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <strong>
    <span>XXXXX</span>
  </strong>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Captain Mrowka's respirator hissed quietly as she looked up at the grey sky. Terrans might find it dreary, but to a Martian, it was a summer's day. Many days on Mars were blue, but grey was still quite common. She closed her eyes as the wind swept across the land. It was </span>
  <em>
    <span>real</span>
  </em>
  <span>. A planet's surface and it was </span>
  <em>
    <span>real</span>
  </em>
  <span> wind. She didn't mind respirators. For a Martian to be outside with just one of those was amazing. Even with terraforming, there were some areas on Mars one shouldn't go without a breather. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>She buried those thoughts before the nostalgia could materialize. She glanced at her compatriots, Colonel Holland and Admiral Moreno, Ambassador Mason, along with a group of UEC officers and a Marine escort. They stood on the surface of Shadow World, on an overpass between two domes. They were in Penumbra, the largest Shade Flotilla settlement on the planet. As she looked around, she wondered if maybe they’d named things retroactively. Unless there was already a planet called Penumbra somewhere in the Compact.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>As she looked about, Colonel Holland looked at her sidearm beside her. It was one of the new types they'd had custom-made on the black market. It was roughly the same size as their old ones, but so was a flintlock pistol compared to a Browning M1911. That didn't mean they had the same capabilities. Whatever the case, it was designed to be highly accurate, powerful, and pierce armor. Exactly what the doctor ordered for fighting Tribunes. The colonel dropped the weapon back in her holster and adjusted her helmet. She wore a fully-sealed combat helmet, but only a vest rather than an entire suit of combat armor. She felt naked without a fully-enclosed breathing unit. It wasn't just military training, she guessed it was a habit from childhood. She eyed the Shades with suspicion and kept her eyes on exits and cover.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Admiral Moreno examined the surrounding buildings. Most of the planet's settlements, such as they were, were prefab domes. They were cheaper, had less surface area, and required less energy. They were also easier to make collapsible. It reminded her of her home, perhaps more so than the Martian. Slayton Colony’s terraforming hadn’t been complete, and last time she’d been there they’d still required oxygen masks outside the habitats. The sky was a little too grey, she’d expect more purple, but you couldn’t have everything. She sighed. Frankly, it made her a little homesick.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The situation was similar to Slayton Colony when it was first founded. It hadn’t been a garden world either, but Earth found precious few of those. However, it had been rich in minerals with a thick enough atmosphere, a satisfactory magnetosphere, was Earth-sized, the right distance from the sun, and was at a strategic position between several inner and outer colonies. Moreno had grown up with domes like the ones around her, and respirators. Even she glanced at Colonel Holland’s helmet with an odd look.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Penumbra was located between a lake and a mountain range, where water and mineral resources were easily accessible. In a stroke of luck, the Shades had found a location that also had a volcano, which gave plenty of healthy soil for farms. The planet’s atmosphere had roughly the right amount of oxygen but had too much CO2. This meant that while most air-breathers couldn’t breathe without feeling awful, plants could still grow, provide nutrition, and would eventually counteract the CO2 problem. However, it would be years before they could grow anywhere near the amounts required. Originally the planet’s climate was barely suitable for terraforming, but beggars couldn’t be choosers, and a good-sized comet adjusted environmental conditions to a more manageable degree.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“...The hospital dome is only temporary, we’re hoping to build an underground facility soon, but the mines take priority, as do defensive works,” spoke their tour guide, a Tribune of course, “We need the material to build more manufacturing facilities,” He gestured to the overpass they stood on. It passed over a small ravine. “This will be pressurized eventually, but resources are more focused on other areas.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Seems like a theme with them…” one of the officers behind Moreno muttered. Ambassador Mason shushed them. The other officers were a mixture of senior staff from around the squadron, who volunteered(and had time in their schedules) to come down for this tour. They also happened to be the ones that they could trust to maintain operational security. They’d even vetted the enlisted Marines to make sure none of them would cause another accident. Proximity to senior officers would reduce the chance of an accident, but invariably </span>
  <em>
    <span>increase</span>
  </em>
  <span> the response to a perceived threat. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>This was also why the ambassador was along, to prevent any sort of diplomatic incident. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Especially</span>
  </em>
  <span> with Captain Mrowka along. She was banned from all formal gatherings, and they were concerned about even informal ones. But she’d wanted to come along, and everyone needed time off the ships.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>They continued on the walkway to the airlock on the other side. Dust coated the bridge, the small crowd raised a cloud. They cycled through the lock, and they pulled off their breathers. Holland pulled off her helmet. The Marine escort simply switched their units off. A corridor on the other side led to a lobby area. It was pristine and sterile. It wouldn’t be out of place in any other world. It was a hospital lobby. There was a typical reception desk, seating, and enough cover for a small firefight. A bored Thoughtful at the desk sat up straight. A fireteam of Janissaries in the corners of the room straightened up. The tour guide waved at them, and they relaxed. “As you can see, our facilities are small but capable. It doesn’t match anything in the core worlds of course, but this hospital is better than what your average pirate gang can manage. If you’ll follow me...”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Behind him, one of the Shade Janissaries scowled. Their mouth twitched as if they were silently mimicking the guide. By the time the Tribune turned around the guard was back to their book like nothing happened. The guide gestured to the party, and they followed. They moved through the corridors and passed conventional hospital sights. Orderlies moved medical supplies, equipment, and beds of various sizes back and forth. Figures in scrubs or other doctors’ garb quickly ran past, walked by deep in conversation, or peering at PDAs. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>They passed several wards until they reached a section with a pair of Marines at the door. The doors were tougher than most, designed to be sealed if there was a loss of pressure. The Marines snapped off salutes, then stood at ease. The party came to a patient ward with perhaps a dozen beds on either side. A score of humans was inside, sleeping, eating, talking, etc. They wore hospital gowns, a few had their limbs wrapped in casts. Half struggled to get up and salute as the officers entered. “At ease, at ease!” Moreno said loudly, “Jeez, don’t hurt yourselves!” Nevertheless, she returned their salutes.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The wounded were a mixture of civilians and soldiers. These weren’t the ones wounded in the riots a month ago. A combat engineer here lost her leg to a Compact land mine 2,004 years ago. The Army private beside her had her arm taken off by a machine gun burst that killed two other soldiers soon after the Kaiju Offensive. A man over there was blind from a Janissary energy weapon.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Admiral Moreno walked over to a woman by the door, who had less extreme injuries. There weren’t any visible. She looked up from her book at the Admiral’s approach. She hadn’t realized they’d even entered. Moreno was struck by how young the woman was. She looked like she was barely twenty. “Good afternoon. I’m Admiral Moreno. What brings you in here?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The woman snorted at the inquiry, and simply held up her right hand with all fingers extended. Her middle finger was wrapped in a cast. “Can you take a guess?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Moreno let out a polite laugh, and studied the cast, “If you’re in here I’m guessing you didn’t break it…”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I didn’t know the sniper knew what that meant!” the girl said, failing to suppress a grin, “Three years without this finger, it’s going to be weird to have it back.” Moreno glanced back over her shoulder to look at the others. The blind man was reading a book with a large print. The private worked an exercise device with both hands. And the combat engineer was using crutches and two legs. They had all survived their injuries during the war, but these were the unlucky ones who hadn’t been able to make it to proper medical facilities to have a transplant scaffolding or to repair some of the damage. Up until the last month that is.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>With another chuckle, Moreno looked back, “What’s your name? What unit were you with?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The girl shook her head, “Oh, I’m not military. I’m Nita. I was on Cahokia.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Moreno’s eyes widened, “Ah…I see.” she smiled with a hint of sadness. She didn’t know what to say. </span>
  <em>
    <span>I’m sorry</span>
  </em>
  <span> was the one thing that floated to the surface, but she couldn’t bring herself to say anything.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I still can’t believe you finally got us out. I couldn’t believe it when those ships came in. One guy thought it was a trap or something.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Moreno nodded, “I can see that. Nine years...how old were you when they hit?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I was eleven. My family lived in the middle of nowhere, so we weren’t near the big settlements, and we had guns. Some of the militia guys came out and rounded a bunch of us up to help fight the doggies. I was a runner for a while until I was big enough to hold a rifle.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Moreno nodded. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Eleven. </span>
  </em>
  <span>They lost Cahokia early on in the war. She’d still been on the original</span>
  <em>
    <span> Vanguard</span>
  </em>
  <span> it was that long ago. Nine years. This poor kid shouldn’t have spent middle school running messages, or high school planting plastic explosives. “How are things here? Is there anything you need?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>"Having whatever the hell this thing is back when we first got rescued?" Nita asked, and waggled the cast, "When we got picked up, the doctors said it had already healed and there was too much nerve damage. But even if these guys are doggies, they know their stuff! Now when my finger itches there's </span>
  <em>
    <span>something there</span>
  </em>
  <span> to scratch!"</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The irregular sound of crutches came closer and Moreno turned. "Nita, stop yelling, she's standing right--" the combat engineer from earlier gulped as the admiral turned around. The combat engineer stood to attention and saluted, "Admiral! I didn't realize-- sorry! Sergeant Thabani Adolfsson, Confederate Army Corps of Engineers."</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>"At ease," Moreno said, "Don't worry, she wasn't bothering me."</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>"Yeah, Thabani, relax!" Nita said.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The sergeant rolled her eyes, "It's good to see you, Admiral. Everyone's been on edge down here."</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>"What better reason than to pay a visit?" Moreno asked, "We didn't want to think we'd forgotten you down here. How's the situation?" That was certainly a major part of it. They also figured it would help calm relations with the Shades.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>"That's very nice of you, ma'am. We're doing fine down here," Adolvsson glanced down at her leg. One foot was a conspicuous dark color, "...even if it's taking time to get used to things."</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>"How're the new prosthetics working?" Moreno asked.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Adolfsson glanced back at the others in the ward, "They're working pretty well, considering. I'm surprised none of the mutts tried to run off with my old leg, but this one still works a lot better than it did, so they can have it," she chuckled, "Apparently the docs are getting along pretty well with theirs, surprisingly."</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>"Really?" Moreno knew about it but wanted to hear the ground perspective.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>"I wouldn't say getting along when they're cursing up a storm at each other…" Nita said, but Adolvsson laughed.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>"They were cursing at each other like they were the same species. That's a good sign, Nita! Nobody's getting shot."</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Moreno nodded again and went to visit with some of the others. In the month since the riot things had cooled slightly. The casualty overflows they'd experienced had helped bridge the gap to some degree. Doctors on both sides had collaborated to save as many people as they could. Even in the Compact doctors had an equivalent to the Hippocratic oath. The relationship they'd built up led from one thing to another. The human ships carried wounded personnel not just from the riots, but also the run through Earth space. The Shade doctors heard about all this suffering, and the humans had trained staff who knew a thing or two. It was beneficial for both sides. The Shades had only so many medical personnel from Nanhar's Expansion Fleet, with no chance of quality replacements anytime soon. The most common replacements the Shade medical staff had were back-alley doctors who either lost their licenses or weren't qualified by </span>
  <em>
    <span>any</span>
  </em>
  <span> medical institution. The human doctors may not have been as advanced, but they weren't quacks and could learn new skills quickly. With Shade medical technology, they could not only treat their existing casualties but restore function to those with older injuries. Prosthetics could be replaced with better functioning ones, and even get them organic limbs or other body parts again. Many of the patients were aboard the Lagrange stations, but distribution between the orbital and ground stations made less of a strain on certain systems.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Colonel Holland stood by the entrance of the ward, engaging with those who came nearby, but not going too far in. Mrowka was more willing to talk to the wounded, but only slightly more so. All three had recognized that distributing the wounded also made them have to spread out their forces. It was a difficult balance, more able-bodied people, including soldiers they needed on their feet, or be more paranoid, but risk such things as long-term problems they couldn’t diagnose without Shade equipment? The blind man over in the corner could have some kind of radiation poisoning or cancer they couldn’t treat in the late stages, and wouldn’t show up on human scanners early.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Beggars can’t be choosers. That’s what it always comes down to, doesn’t it?</span>
  </em>
  <span> Moreno thought to herself. They visited several other wards to provide moral support, share a joke, and remind these civilians and soldiers that they weren’t alone with the Tribunes. They moved deeper into the hospital, to the more serious care wards. Human corpsmen and doctors were not far away from any of them. Many were learning the ropes on the new equipment, or simply standing there with the Marines to provide a familiar presence. And to make sure the alien doctors understood what they were doing.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>They passed more serious cases as well. Those with the more severe burns and trauma. The admiral spoke with a man who'd been paralyzed by spinal and head injuries. He could speak again and had at least some movement again. So it wasn't </span>
  <em>
    <span>all</span>
  </em>
  <span> bad. But they passed at least one figure under a sheet.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The </span>
  <em>
    <span>Vanguard</span>
  </em>
  <span>’s chief medical officer, Commander Nuruddin Pavesi, approached the party and exchanged a salute with Admiral Moreno. Moreno spoke the standard exchange, but the moment the Tribune guide was out of earshot, Mrowka grabbed the commander by the arm, “How’s operational security?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Surprisingly fine for most of them. It’s the corpsicles I’m worried about.” Pavesi was a bit too exhausted to care about the captain’s blunt nature.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh, figures,” Mrowka groaned. She waved at Moreno, and when she got her attention, made the Navy sign language gesture for </span>
  <em>
    <span>corpsicles</span>
  </em>
  <span>. The admiral nodded, shrugged with a grimace, and shook her head in annoyance. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The tour guide came back with a sigh of annoyance, “Apologies, the intensive care unit was needed for a mining accident. We can keep going.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>They walked through the areas close to the surgical wards and treatment centers of the hospital. Moreno saw a Navy corpsman shouting at some Shade doctors in the exact manner Adolvsson described. She also saw Shade orderlies taking gentle care of a human on a gurney. There were some humans elsewhere in the Shade system, on-planet, and off-planet, learning all that they could. She was amazed that after about a month they could be this civil.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Moreno suppressed a chuckle at a long string of extremely specific expletives the corpsman spouted behind them. Mrowka suddenly snorted beside her as well, “Hey, Colonel, sounds like you when we got that proposal about Juretti.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Holland glared at her, “The geek’s harmless, but I don’t trust his buddies, that’s the problem! And I wasn’t that loud!”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>One of the other officers in the group spoke up, “Captain, I swear his head was going to explode when you showed him your wallet. All you had was an old jolly rancher and some ticket stubs, right ma’am?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Mrowka nodded, “The kid's gonna lose his goddamn mind if we show him ice cream.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Goddamn it, all the cows are in stasis, we are </span>
  <em>
    <span>not</span>
  </em>
  <span> giving up our ice cream!" Holland snarled.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>"What about spacer ice cream? you know, the stuff we grow aboard ship?" one of the Marine escorts suggested helpfully, “I mean, those eggheads </span>
  <em>
    <span>are</span>
  </em>
  <span> just seeing the oldest liner we’ve got, and this is old tech, where’s the harm in--”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“You know that’s just not the same!” Another Marine snapped, giving the first a push.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Why don’t we just give him pita bread? Will that make everyone happy?” grunted Lieutenant Shirazi, off the </span>
  <em>
    <span>Armada</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Moreno suppressed a laugh as she heard Holland grind her teeth. It was true. Juretti, Nanhar’s nephew, had practically begged Kaitet to ask the humans if he could see any of their gear. He didn’t believe for a second they were the ancient humans, but he was fascinated by the “detail” on all their ships. They planned to keep it that way, and conceded in the name of security...so long as he and his scholarly compatriots only ever saw the inside of the oldest and leakiest cruise liner they had left. It would satisfy their historical curiosity, would keep up the illusion of grand flamboyant pirates, and wouldn’t give away the secrets the larger(and especially military) vessels would. Their analysts believed that the Compact universities that studied ancient humanity, unless they were anthropologists, didn’t study popular culture in any great detail, and civilian life details wouldn’t be very common. It wouldn’t risk too much. Nevertheless, they could only see a limited part of the ship, and what was allowed had been heavily modified to avoid any major clues about humanity, and match what they knew in the contemporary period. They even stuck tape over serial numbers on deck plating if it was too conspicuous.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>They’d been lucky so far, most of the clues they’d given of who they were were typically dismissed with racist views, or “crazy lying pirates”. But incidents like the riot put that in perspective. Someday, if they weren’t careful, it would get them all killed. All they had to do was hold on till they reached the Principality, then they could be who they really were. But for now, they had to play it a lot more carefully. The riot told them that. They couldn't take more risks with people discovering the Confederacy still existed. They </span>
  <em>
    <span>had</span>
  </em>
  <span> to maintain opsec.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Moreno was knocked out of her thoughts when the Marine in front of her suddenly stopped and she bumped hard into them. The back of a helmet could be pretty darn hard. “Oh, sorry ma’am!”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Moreno held her nose, and waved them off, “Never mind, I’m alright.” The Marine apologized again and held open the door to the ward they’d stopped at. She glanced back at the others, “There’s only a few allowed in here at a time.” They knew </span>
  <em>
    <span>exactly</span>
  </em>
  <span> why. “Why don’t the rest of you break up and make an appearance at some of the other wards?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>They nodded. Many seemed uncomfortable. Even Mason, with an uneasy glance at Captain Mrowka, didn’t seem to object. All but Holland, Mrowka, and Pavesi, along with a handful of Marines, departed. The Tribune guide held the other door, and the group entered. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>This was the recovery ward for the “corpsicles”.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>They entered a small ward, with only three to either side for now. Heart rate monitors beeped. Transparent walls separated the party from the beds, to form a small corridor in the center. Men and women, scarred and sickly, lay in beds that were slightly too big, hooked up to so many different machines their faces were barely visible. On instinct, each human scanned the faces, hoping to find someone they knew, hoping even after so long that someone had been missed, that someone had survived. Commander Pavesi gestured to the room, "These cases are looking hopeful. Half we've got a rough timetable, the other half we're hoping will just wake up eventually. But we don't know how long that will be."</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>This had been a clincher for the deal with the Shades and sharing medical facilities. The humans had wounded, and casualties who needed prosthetics and the like, but they also had two-hundred of what the medical community dubbed “warm stiffs”. Corpsicles. They were those who were mostly dead, coma victims who were vegetables, the critically wounded so far gone they couldn’t be saved, but weren’t all dead yet. They were still sort of alive. They just couldn’t be saved with the current medical science. It was a standard procedure to freeze such cases, and they were used to great effect in previous conflicts humanity had fought since the days of the sub-light crawlers. The Shades’ “limited” medical facilities were still far in advance of the best tech you’d see in the Confederacy, and Pavesi and his staff found they could revive at least twenty-five corpsicles. Twenty-five people would be granted their lives back. Twenty-five free human beings would be back in the galaxy.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Holland studied one face on the end of one row of beds. Her mouth was open slightly, and she mouthed a syllable. After a moment she shook her head. Moreno looked at Pavesi, "What about the other cases?"</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Pavesi scratched his head, "Well, I'm astounded we managed to save as many as we did. But we still have a hundred and seventy-five of them in stasis-- Hey, Colonel?"</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Holland was at the door to one of the sections, her hand on the door handle, "What? These aren't clean rooms are they?"</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>"No, you can enter, I'm just--" Holland pulled open the door and darted in. She quick-marched to the bed at the far end, a man wrapped up in bandages. It looked like they'd pieced him back together. Pavesi followed her in and checked his PDA, "This is Major Rangi Beutel, Confederate Marines."</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Mrowka and Moreno entered as well. The captain looked over at her comrade. She'd never seen the high-strung Marine like this. "Oh my god…" Holland murmured, in the lowest voice they'd ever heard from her.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The major’s heart rate monitor continued to beep. Pavesi read from a report, "The ship picked him up on Vozovikov Colony during our run through that system. The report says an enemy aircraft strafed his encampment when they were evacuating. According to the reports, they got him out, barely, but they had to freeze him. If we were back home we couldn't have saved him."</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Holland nodded numbly, “I thought he was dead.” The heart rate monitor's tone shifted, then returned to normal. She moved to the side of the bed and touched the man’s hand. The skin had dim outlines from surgery. He </span>
  <em>
    <span>had</span>
  </em>
  <span> been glued back together. She looked down with her eyes closed and gripped his hand.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>"Colonel? Do you know him? Are you next of kin?" Pavesi inquired.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>"Why wasn't I notified?” Holland growled, and moved toward the doctor, “He's one of the most senior Marine officers we've got left!" The brain activity monitors spiked, then went back down.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Pavesi rolled his eyes, "He's a corpsicle, ma'am. Odds were he'd be frozen for another hundred years before we could try to save him if we didn't have Shade tech. He was a little hard to stick back together even then. And we don’t exactly have many people to spare for administrative duties. We’ve got a million people in the fleet, give or take."</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>"You--" Holland's eyes darted to the Marines in the window. She waved at them, "Wait outside, this is private."</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The Marines looked at each other, then complied. Holland whirled on the doctor as soon as the door was shut, "You should've notified me immediately! He's one of the most senior Marine officers left, and I need to be aware of things like this."</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>"Holland!" Mrowka admonished, "He's a corpsicle! We’re still reconnecting people who are breathing and walking around!"</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>"You didn't tell me he was still alive!" Holland spat again as if she hadn't heard. Moreno opened her mouth to bark an order, but it seemed her previous talks with the colonel had gotten through. Holland took a deep breath and her expression shifted. She didn't know whether to cry or laugh, "You didn't tell me he was alive."</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The heart rate monitor shifted again. So did brain activity. This time there was a perceptible rise, then a fall. Pavesi noticed, and fixed Holland with a look, "Colonel, who is he to you? I don't have any records on him, at least nothing that isn't buried in the other databases. And we didn't tell you because he wasn't likely to survive. We didn't even know how much we could save. He was one step from DOA." They had databases containing practically all human knowledge of course, but security precautions, the protections they had on the databases to prevent any sort of damage, and other factors prevented them from accessing the entirety of them on short notice. Not to mention how much data there was, with only a scant handful of personnel cleared to access all of it, especially military records.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>"He...you…" Holland's energy seemed to fade out of her. She wasn't grumpy, energetic, or sarcastic, she was for once just...tired.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>"Who is he, Colonel?" Moreno asked.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>"He's an old friend. We enlisted together. I thought he was dead! Damn, what the hell was he doing on Vozovikov?" She turned to look at Beutel's prone form.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>"That would explain why you aren't listed," Pavesi muttered and made a note.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Mrowka walked up to her, and lowered her voice, "Hey, Phi, you okay?"</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Holland almost sniffled. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Almost</span>
  </em>
  <span>. She coughed, "Uh, pardon me, Captain. Admiral. Should we…?"</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Moreno looked at the heart rate monitor. She glanced back at Holland, "Colonel, I'm sure we can survive without you for five minutes. You can stay if you like."</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>"Admiral, I'm perfectly--"</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Moreno held up a hand, "You know what? Make it an order. You're going to spend at least five minutes here with the major. He's under your command now, after all. I hear talking to people in comas helps, so maybe give him some updates?" She smiled a little at the poor joke, "I'm sure he'd love to see a familiar face when he wakes up."</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Holland nodded stoically, "Yes ma'am, orders received." The biosign monitor spiked again.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>"Carry on, Colonel." Moreno, Mrowka, and Pavesi departed.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>As they walked out, Moreno glanced at Mrowka, "How's she doing?"</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Mrowka grimaced, "About as well as she seems. She's always high strung but this is ridiculous."</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>"Well, who isn't on the verge of snapping? At least she wasn’t that insubordinate this time. Hopefully, this calms her down."</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Holland found a chair, leaned back to see that the door had been shut, then looked back at Beutel. A machine hissed quietly. "Hey, Rangi. It's good to see you."</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>There was a quiet clunk from the life support as something was injected on schedule, the machines keeping him alive with their primitive minds. They didn't know of a world outside themselves, they didn't care what uniform this man wore, all they cared was that his body cried out in pain. "Well...here we are. Here at the end of the world."</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The monitor bounced slightly. Not that Holland could tell, she wasn't trained in it. Holland leaned her head against her fist, "Damn it, I thought you were dead. What the hell were you doing on Vozovikov? We lost that place years ago!" She sighed, "Rangi, you scared me half to death, you asshole."</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He didn't answer of course. Holland twiddled her thumbs, she didn't seem to know what to do for a second. She suddenly grinned, and some of her energy returned, "Man, you're a mess. You could never even dodge a </span>
  <em>
    <span>dodgeball.</span>
  </em>
  <span> That was one hell of a ball this time." She tried to find something else funny to say, but she couldn't find any banter. She just felt this odd numb feeling. One of her oldest friends was right there, and yet he wasn't. He'd nearly died and she didn't even know he’d still been alive. His heart rate monitor arched again. She pulled out her PDA and sent an email to one of her aides. Surely someone was still left from his unit. They could tell her what happened. She sent it off, and sighed, “Man, I’m just so glad to see you. Even if they had to tape you back together.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>She looked back down at her PDA. A drop of liquid fell on it. She touched her face and found more on her fingertips. She chuckled through her teeth, "Well whaddya know...guess I'm still human after all." Her voice broke. She leaned forward in her chair.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Mrowka and Moreno walked through the hospital to the other wards. "So she never mentioned this guy?"</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Mrowka shook her head, "I only met her after the Kaiju Offensive. She's a career military officer, who knows when she met that guy.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Moreno nodded, then snorted, “If I find out one of the popsicles is my second-year academy roommate, I may just have them refreeze her.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“That bad, huh?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Neat freak with a religious bent. I think Rally would take her.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Ouch. Bit harsh, ma’am.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Moreno shrugged, “Yeah I didn’t care for her.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Mrowka turned and opened her mouth to reply, but caught something out of the corner of her eye. She nudged the admiral and gestured back down the hall, “Speaking of which…”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Moreno turned, and much to her surprise saw Kaitet and Quick to Water coming down the hall. The Marines stood to, their weapons at the ready, and one put up a hand for them to stop, “State your business.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I must speak with your superior immediately,” Quick snapped, and looked past the trooper, “Admiral Moreno! I must speak to you!”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Mrowka tilted her head, “Katey, what’s up? Something wrong?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Kaitet grimaced, and threw up her hand, “He won’t tell me. The Jackals finally got a courier drone in-system, and--”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Admiral, would you mind telling your guards to back off?” Quick to Water demanded when one of the Marines flinched and nearly brought up his weapon. It must’ve been the Askanj-</span>
  <em>
    <span>illth</span>
  </em>
  <span>’s tail. The appearance was certainly unsettling for most.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Stand down, Corporal,” Moreno said, and walked a bit closer, “Representative, I prefer not to conduct negotiations without my diplomatic team. This is strictly an informal visit.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Quick to Water wasn’t looking too good. At least she didn’t think he did. Moreno didn’t have much experience with snakes. Aside from that python her neighbor had when she was a kid. He scratched his head, “This is informal as well, but I </span>
  <em>
    <span>must</span>
  </em>
  <span> speak to you immediately. In private.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Admiral, I’d advise against that, no offense to the representative,” Mrowka said.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Admiral Moreno, please! This is important!” Quick to Water hissed. He looked nervous, “I must speak to you in private!”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Moreno sighed. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Informal, eh? What has him so rattled?</span>
  </em>
  <span> “Captain, where’s the ambassador?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Mrowka wished they’d brought one of the aides along as she grabbed her PDA, “Mrowka to Ambassador Mason.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Mason speaking.</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Get up to the lounge on floor...thirteen, take a left from the elevators. Quick to Water’s up here and wants to talk to the admiral.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>On my way, bye.</span>
  </em>
  <span>” he hung up, and Mrowka was surprised at his goodbye. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Usually, you say ‘out’, I guess I won’t put him on report...oh.</span>
  </em>
  <span> She’d forgotten he was still a civilian.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The ambassador made good time. In about two minutes he jogged down the hall, panting. “Okay, I’m...here…” he coughed, and leaned forward onto his knees for a second, “Phew, the stairs in this place are </span>
  <em>
    <span>murder</span>
  </em>
  <span>. What’s happening?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Ambassador Mason, </span>
  <em>
    <span>please</span>
  </em>
  <span>, I have orders from my superiors,” Quick to Water insisted, “I’m to speak to Admiral Moreno alone, or in private, but she won’t talk to me without you or another member of the diplomatic team.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Mason blinked, “Ah...okay, um…” he glanced around, and spotted a nearby lounge, “That’s doable. Shall we?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span> Moreno jerked her head at one of the Marines in the direction of the lounge, “Sergeant, can you spare a leatherneck?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>"Yes ma'am. Private, protect the admiral." The Sergeant gestured to one of his subordinates. The motion seemed to make the representative flinch ever so slightly. Moreno furrowed her brow and gestured for Quick to Water to go first.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>They entered the lounge and left the handful of Marines, Captain Mrowka, and Kaitet in the corridor. Mrowka went over to a bench beside a couple of oversized vending machines, sat down (despite the height issue), and pulled out her PDA to check an email. Kaitet followed as close as she dared. She made eye contact with the sergeant and remained just back from the bench. That didn't satisfy the Marine, "Ma'am, please stand back."</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Mrowka looked up, and stood up herself, "It's alright, Sergeant."</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>"Ma'am, it's regulations. You want to keep at least two and a half meters distance."</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Mrowka nodded with a grimace, "Right, right. There's nothing against talking though, is there?"</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>"No ma'am, I'm just covering my ass."</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Kaitet nodded with approval, "Good work, </span>
  <em>
    <span>Sergeant</span>
  </em>
  <span>. I hope I'm pronouncing that correctly." The Marine blinked behind his visor and simply nodded. Kaitet looked back at Mrowka, "So...nice to see you in person, Milena. Or at all, really."</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Mrowka rubbed her eyes, “You tend to call me when I get off-shift. I’m usually not in the mood to see </span>
  <em>
    <span>anyone</span>
  </em>
  <span>.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“...That’s why you always turn off your camera, I know, you told me,” Kaitet said, then gestured, “Oh, I finally dug up those old Ground Effect Vehicle specs you were wondering about. The Frostfire GEVs?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh yeah, thanks. Send them to me next time we chat. So, how're things?"</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>"Oh, the usual. Nothing worth mentioning."</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>"Well, that's good. How are those security guards doing?"</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>"Fine. Those Marines?"</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>"Fine, they're all still breathing," Mrowka nodded. Commander Afolabi was back in command of the </span>
  <em>
    <span>Hecla</span>
  </em>
  <span>, and both she and the Marines were restricted to their ships, not that that would change much. The Marines had spent time in the brig, but they still needed every warm body they could get. Most of them had been released in the past few days. It still made the entire fleet uncomfortable, including her, even if they'd only killed species in the Compact. Some elements of their pre-war culture remained, despite ten years of war. The Navy's official ship class names were certainly evidencing enough of that, with names like "Deep Space Heavy Escort" and "Local Space Command Ship". Several of the civilians had been released as well, but Mrowka didn't know as much about what was going on in the civilian courts. Frankly, she didn't mind, letting the civilian courts handle it made her job a whole lot easier. Even if Pearce had had to have a chat with Moreno to do it.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>"Well that's good," Kaitet said. She glanced around, "I trust everything in here is up to your standards?"</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>"Seems to be. Nobody's complaining. The docs love your tech. Have you heard anything?"</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>"Nope. Your people know their stuff from what I've heard. The only complaints are the usual ones whining about client races. I think I need a new junk mail folder."</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Mrowka nodded, scratched her head awkwardly, and gestured with her thumb at the lounge, "So do you know what Cuddles in there is so freaked out about?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Kaitet shook her head in bewilderment, “No idea. The Jackal drone came in a few days ago, and he was pretty calm, but then he got real nervous once he read something. I dunno. I just thought it would be whatever agreement they worked out with your people.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Mrowka rolled her eyes, “He’s probably here to announce the Principality collapsed or something. It would figure.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Kaitet chuckled, “That’s a bit gloomy, isn’t it?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I prefer ‘realistic'.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah, they always say that,” Kaitet said with a sigh, “The film industry loves ‘realistic’ too, also known as ‘horrific consequences of disobedience’.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Hm,” Mrowka conceded, “I thought their definition of ‘realistic’ was ‘looking for literally any excuse to shoot someone’.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah, that sounds right too.” Kaitet nodded, “‘Have an AI? All y’all get exterminated’. Then they come up with a convenient narrative and excuses ready in advance.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Mrowka nodded. She didn’t know that Compact Standard had that sort of play on words. Must’ve played hell with the translators. After a moment, she glanced at Kaitet. “Hey, Katey, I got a question.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“What? Better not be about that--”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“No it’s not about </span>
  <em>
    <span>that</span>
  </em>
  <span> again, Jesus! No, we’re never talking about </span>
  <em>
    <span>that</span>
  </em>
  <span> again. No, I was wondering...you watched a bunch of your nephew's human history tapes right?"</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“He’s not my nephew, he’s my...I dunno what he is, he’s a family member.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Whatever. So the stuff about…” Mrowka hesitated. If the enlisted had to crack down on references to their own culture, so did she. “Why don’t you agree with your buddies about...my ancestors, and the AI thing?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Kaitet looked at her and blinked in surprise, “Well, you start with tough questions today!”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Well you brought AI up…” Mrowka shrugged, “If the AI thing is true about us, why haven’t you written us off as heretics or whatever?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Kaitet peered at her, “Well...it’s the numbers. Juretti showed me some of the logistical analyses from the war. Your ancestors killed a lot more people in two sieges of one of your fortress worlds than died in </span>
  <em>
    <span>Bringer of Light’s</span>
  </em>
  <span> fleet. And we haven’t exterminated other people for use of AI or destroying a Chariot. I’m a little fuzzy on the history, but that all sounds pretty fishy. And how were they supposed to know certain weapons were banned? Different cultures have different values, and lots of societies have some pretty nasty standards of war. They were fighting as they saw fit. That doesn’t make it right to exterminate them because it’s too darned hard to conquer them.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Mrowka nodded thoughtfully, “But what about the AI? For other people that seems to settle the argument.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Kaitet shrugged, “I can understand why they used them. I mean, yeah, they can be pretty nasty and hard to control, but desperate people resort to desperate strategy sometimes. I mean, look at the casualty ratios. It was something like six human ships for every one Compact vessel. Why </span>
  <em>
    <span>wouldn’t </span>
  </em>
  <span>they resort to forbidden weapons with odds like that?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“But again, your people seem to think building an AI is the worst part. What were they thinking to control it?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Kaitet snorted darkly, “I think I’ve cracked the code on that one. With casualty ratios like that, the problem takes care of itself. The AI lowers the ratio, but there’s no time for it to go nuts because the casualty rates have only been reduced, not eliminated. It’ll get destroyed before it can. If you have minimal control over the AI at least, you’ll point it in the direction of the enemy, then it kills the enemy and dies before it can go nuts, and the problem takes care of itself.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Mrowka furrowed her brow. “You know...I honestly hadn’t thought of that.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I mean sure it’s an atrocious loss in material, but it gets you the advantage with none of the drawbacks!” Kaitet winced, “Ah...except when the Triarchs throw a fit.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Mrowka wanted to glare, but she found herself making a small snort. “‘Oh no, the big bad humans are gonna get us! They destroyed a legitimate military target, waah’!”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Kaitet relaxed, and chuckled herself, “Don’t forget, ‘hey, you think maybe attacking them is why they’re so mad? No, it must be something else’!”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>They shared a few laughs there.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Kaitet chuckled, “I mean, that’s how all the movies start, right? Or a bunch of them. Scientists build some big AI, it works for a while, </span>
  <em>
    <span>then</span>
  </em>
  <span> starts to act funny. I figure those humans weren’t stupid, so obviously they thought of it, knew it wouldn't go nuts immediately, threw it at the enemy so it would die before that happened, and there you go.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Mrowka shrugged, “Yeah, that’s how a bunch of those movies go. Though sometimes it’s pretty tragic.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah. Ever seen that one, </span>
  <em>
    <span>Figure of the Ship</span>
  </em>
  <span>? The deep space exploration one?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The captain shook her head, “Nah.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Jeez, where have you been…? It’s got a bunch of explorers on a deep space mission with an AI that goes nuts and tries to kill them, but the funny thing is it wasn’t a bad AI, it was just programmed badly. Someone gave it the wrong order, and that’s what got ‘em.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Sounds like </span>
  <em>
    <span>2001</span>
  </em>
  <span>…” Mrowka muttered.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Two-thousand and one what?” Kaitet asked, "you just trailed off."</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Huh? Oh, the movie, </span>
  <em>
    <span>2001: A Space Odyssey</span>
  </em>
  <span>. It’s an ancient Earth movie.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Kaitet raised an eyebrow. Mrowka realized that the four eyes, or at least her friend’s four eyes, didn’t bother her that much. “How’d you see that? I wouldn’t think...”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh, uh...I had a class studying ancient pop culture. I kinda just picked it off the list. My adopted family said I should learn more about my heritage.” It was a quick save, but it hadn’t been too big of a security breach. Like the rest of the ground party, she’d checked the list of existing Rally pop culture frequently to avoid these circumstances. Rally’s pop culture still contained remnants of the 20th-century greats, partly to illustrate how “primitive” humanity had been. An edited version of the film existed, as did other classic sci-fi. It made her sick how much they edited it all.  </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Kaitet gestured to Mrowka’s uniform, “Well, you certainly did that.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The captain nodded, “It’s ancient, but it's got a similar plot. And still compelling even so long later.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“They’re classics for a reason, I guess.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <strong>
    <span>XXXXX</span>
  </strong>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Inside the lounge, Quick to Water paced back and forth at the opposite end. He looked quite nervous for a snake. The Marine stood by the door with their carbine at the ready. Moreno stood with a table between her and the Askanj-</span>
  <em>
    <span>illth</span>
  </em>
  <span>. Quick to Water was normally so calm and laid back. He was downright polite. What had him so </span>
  <em>
    <span>scared</span>
  </em>
  <span>? “Uh, it’s good to see you again, Admiral…”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Moreno crossed her arms, “So what was so important you needed to speak to me in person? I repeat I don't want to conduct official business without the rest of my diplomatic team. If that’s what you want, this is going to be a </span>
  <em>
    <span>real</span>
  </em>
  <span> short meeting.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Mason scratched his head, “She’s correct, Mr. Water. We can’t conduct negotiations on the fly like this. Did you say something about a message from your superiors? We need the rest of our diplomatic staff if we’re going to talk about the treaty…”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Quick to Water rubbed the back of his head and fidgeted with his hands. He sounded almost frantic, “We got a message back on that courier. They agreed to your conditions, but had some additional questions, and...and…”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“...And?” Moreno asked with a small hand gesture.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The representative avoided eye contact and grimaced nervously, his alien teeth revealed, “We have some additional terms and conditions. Admiral--”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“We need the rest of the diplomatic team for this, Mr. Water, I’m sorry but we can’t conduct negotiations like this,” Mason cut him off with a hand. Moreno nodded and took a step toward the door.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Wait! They were questions for you! You personally, Admiral!”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Moreno stopped in her tracks. Mason’s eyes widened, “Are you sure? Did they ask for her specifically? That’s not a translation error?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“No! Admiral, they wanted me to ask </span>
  <em>
    <span>you</span>
  </em>
  <span> some questions.” Quick to Water would’ve been perspiring heavily had he been human. He spread his hands. “Off the official records. Classified stuff, we don’t want it showing up in the treaty.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Moreno fixed her gaze on him, “I thought the treaty was already classified.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“That should tell you why this is so important. This treaty of ours is already classified, but this is </span>
  <em>
    <span>beyond</span>
  </em>
  <span> classified. My superiors believed you would be the one equipped to answer these questions.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Moreno’s eyes widened. The Principality knew they declared themselves the United Earth Confederacy. They accepted that. They hadn’t told them they really </span>
  <em>
    <span>were</span>
  </em>
  <span> the Confederacy and not just a group of humans declaring themselves as the nation, they wanted to leave the black hole story as an ace in the hole. They’d been perfectly willing to take them and their experienced officers in. Nothing about the last time she’d talked to the representative struck her as out of the ordinary. What was going on? Moreno looked at Mason, then back to the representative. “And why is that?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The alien scratched his head, “Mr. Mason, Admiral, please, this is very important. We need to know,” He looked to the side.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Yes or no; Is this a </span>
  <em>
    <span>condition </span>
  </em>
  <span>of our ‘case’?” Mason asked.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Quick to Water waved dismissively, “Oh, not quite, it’s simply an inquiry. A historical inquiry. We believed, based on your equipment and information, that you may have some knowledge on it that we don’t. Just an academic question I suppose.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“It depends on what sort of question it is.” Mason said in a low voice, “Because it’s obviously not ‘academic’.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Quick to Water’s hands froze. His nervousness cooled. He looked at the ground, then up at Moreno, “Admiral...does the name </span>
  <em>
    <span>Nemesis</span>
  </em>
  <span> mean anything to you?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>There was a </span>
  <em>
    <span>clack</span>
  </em>
  <span> behind the human officials. Moreno glanced back to see the Marine trying to fix the iron sights on her carbine. She looked back and peered at the ambassador. His eyes were on the Marine now.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Mason looked at Moreno, then at the representative, “Why do you ask?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>At his words, Quick to Water’s gaze moved from the Marine to Mason. He exhaled and closed his eyes. Suddenly his anxiety shifted. His gaze narrowed, and he put his hands together. his frantic tone vanished. He dropped his hands at his side. How much of it was an act? “I’m not sure why. I just know they’re very important to my government. My superiors are anxious. You’re right, it’s not academic. Something is happening out there, and this could be crucial. I don’t know what’s going on, but when they get upset, so do I.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Moreno raised an eyebrow. Mason glanced back at her. Her eyes flicked between him and the snake. “</span>
  <em>
    <span>Nemesis</span>
  </em>
  <span> was an old human dreadnought. It was destroyed 2,000 years ago. Why do you ask?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The alien tilted his head with a grimace, “Admiral. This is very important.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Yes. I am aware. Why do you want to know?” Moreno asked, “You’re making a big deal over this, and I’m not entirely sure what you’re after.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The alien nodded, “The truth, Admiral.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Mason frowned, “And what truth is that? Why do you want to know about a 2,000-year-old warship? More than that, why does the Principality leadership consider it that important?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The alien didn’t answer immediately. He scratched his head again. It wasn’t </span>
  <em>
    <span>all </span>
  </em>
  <span>an act. He eyed her with a curious expression. His eyes flicked down to her insignia, then back at her face.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“What’s so important about an ancient spacecraft?” Mason repeated.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Quick to Water crossed his arms. His gaze swept to the human ambassador. He looked him up and down. For a moment he flicked his eyes amongst the feet of all three humans. Moreno realized he was comparing them. Quick to Water looked at the Marine’s carbine, and finally squinted at Moreno’s watch. It stuck out of her sleeve slightly. The admiral guessed he’d be frowning at it, Askanj-</span>
  <em>
    <span>illth</span>
  </em>
  <span> faces weren’t very mobile. “...does the name Red One mean anything to you?” Quick to Water finally asked. He seemed like he wanted to say something else, but it just wouldn’t come out.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Moreno’s gaze narrowed ever so slightly. “I’m sorry, there must’ve been a translation error. A red what?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Red One.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“A red one what?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Quick to Water smiled, or his equivalent thereof. “Does the phrase 'Red One' mean anything to you? The message didn’t explain any details, just that phrase. They wanted me to ask.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Moreno couldn’t tell if the representative was lying or not. “What we know or do not know about the color red is not your business.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“This could be </span>
  <em>
    <span>very</span>
  </em>
  <span> crucial, Admiral,” Quick to Water said. Again, it was as if he wanted to say something.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Is this a condition of our agreement?” Mason asked.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Quick to Water looked at Mason strangely, then at Moreno. He glanced at the other personnel. “Admiral, are you sure you don't have any other information you can give me? Are you certain of your answers?"</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>"Whether I do or not isn't up to me. I'm not a diplomat. Whatever information we may or may not have is up to the diplomatic team, and the president."</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Quick to Water peered at her for a long moment. "You're really not in charge, are you? You take the presidency that seriously?"</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>"I couldn't call myself an officer if I didn't. I'd be a tyrant."</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Quick to Water frowned again. Moreno studied him. His eyes twitched. His face shifted. He looked at the Marine behind them. “You said you didn’t have any contact with the Red Hand. That </span>
  <em>
    <span>is</span>
  </em>
  <span> true, isn’t it? You’re not holding anything back?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“No. We have had no contact with the Red Hand.” Mason said curtly. Even he was growing impatient.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Adrianna Leblanc is the Red Queen's name. Are you sure you don't know her?"</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>"I'm pretty sure I'd remember someone with blue hair and a body count like hers,” Moreno said, “I mean, we’ve got plenty of people with gene mods, but not many of our grunts can match her legends.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“‘Mods’?” Quick to Water asked.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>"Admiral…" Mason cautioned, and turned to Quick to Water, "She's right. We can't disclose any further information. Is this relevant to our treaty? Does it invalidate it?"</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>"No, but it could be crucial to other things." Quick to Water opened his mouth yet again to try and say something. He closed it, then opened it again, “...Things that could, not now, but sometime, somewhere in the future, have implications in galactic politics.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Moreno raised an eyebrow.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>"Then we shall consult with the rest of the diplomatic team before we agree on whether or not we’ll answer these questions. Thank you very much, Quick to Water," Mason dipped his head and made an odd hand gesture.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Quick to Water sighed, dipped his head as well, then returned the gesture. Evidently, it was some sort of Askanj-</span>
  <em>
    <span>illth </span>
  </em>
  <span>custom. "Very well, very well."</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>"Was there anything further?"</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>"As I'm sure you've already deduced, my superiors returned with information. I will not give you all the details right here, of course, my staff is preparing an official message to send to yours, but…" he offered a weak snake smile, "Help is coming. Rescue is just a matter of time."</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Mason smiled back, “Thank you. To reiterate, our treaty is still in effect?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Yes. This situation does not invalidate our offer of assistance.” He gestured to the room as he spoke, “I hope we can come to an agreement on this at some point, but it can wait until you’re ready. Let’s rejoice in what good news we do have, shall we?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>They exited the lounge, and the others in the hallway glanced up. Kaitet, Mrowka, and the sergeant spread apart from where they'd been standing, presumably involved in some deep conversation. Quick to Water looked at Kaitet, who made a gesture with her thumb down the corridor. The Marine guards straightened up and prepared to move out.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Kaitet looked at Mrowka. “Well, I have to go too. It was good to talk to you in person, Milena.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Likewise, Katey. See you when I see you.” Mrowka gave her a two-finger salute.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Kaitet smiled in that unsettling Tribune way, "Oh, hey, if you're going to be spending any more time down here, you know they've got a nice restaurant over in Dome Four. I hear they serve stuff compatible with humans. I'd love to talk more about old movies…"</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Mrowka smiled back, "Ah, I don't have time on this visit, but maybe we can make plans?"</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Kaitet nodded, "Gotcha. Alright then…" she lifted her right hand, fingers extended, and bent the ones past her middle finger for a second. She furrowed her brow at her hand, then closed all but her index and middle fingers. She returned the two-fingered salute. Kaitet grinned, then walked down the corridor. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Moreno moved to stand beside Mrowka and watched them go. “So, I see you’re making friends.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Mrowka watched the aliens leave as well. “She’s not a commie. That’s good enough. What had the representative all in a tizzy?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Moreno turned toward her. “They wanted to know about </span>
  <em>
    <span>Nemesis</span>
  </em>
  <span>.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Mrowka blinked and faced the admiral with a raised eyebrow, “Really? </span>
  <em>
    <span>That’s</span>
  </em>
  <span> what they wanted? They get a fast courier message and all it is is about one of our ships?” She cursed and looked away, “Why does everyone want </span>
  <em>
    <span>Nemesis</span>
  </em>
  <span>? What’s so special about them?” She looked at Moreno, “What </span>
  <em>
    <span>was</span>
  </em>
  <span> so special about them, </span>
  <em>
    <span>Admiral</span>
  </em>
  <span>?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Moreno looked back. “Captain…”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Admiral, you might be putting my ship in danger. The fact of the matter is the dozen of us senior officers left are all you’ve got left of UEC high command. You might as well tell us.” Mrowka scratched her head, “And this can’t be all that bad. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Nemesis</span>
  </em>
  <span> should be as obsolete as we were.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Moreno shook her head, “I understand, Captain. But there are some things about her we’re not going to risk giving up to the enemy. Not until we get to Principality space.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Mrowka furrowed her brow, “Admiral, what in the world could be that powerful that </span>
  <em>
    <span>our</span>
  </em>
  <span> ships are still </span>
  <em>
    <span>that</span>
  </em>
  <span> classified for longer than the Torah’s existed?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Moreno crossed her arms and gave her a look.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Mrowka’s brow furrowed even more, “...you’re kidding. What kind of boomstick did we </span>
  <em>
    <span>have</span>
  </em>
  <span> on that thing? I knew we had some bleeding-edge hardware on those ships, but...what </span>
  <em>
    <span>was</span>
  </em>
  <span> on that thing?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Moreno shook her head with a clenched jaw, “It’s why the snakes and Triarchs still want them. I’m not sure how much the snakes know, but the doggies know some. Maybe the Principality will ask politely, maybe not, but you know as well as I do if the Compact discovers we have </span>
  <em>
    <span>anything</span>
  </em>
  <span> on that tech, they’ll come after us and rip our ships apart looking for them. And then they’ll start ripping </span>
  <em>
    <span>us</span>
  </em>
  <span> apart next when they can’t figure out how to build them. That tech needs to stay in our hands, or be lost forever.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I still don’t see what exactly they had--”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“The Compact is going to carve my head out when they can’t get it, Captain. Do you want them going after yours?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Mrowka looked away. She looked back, “They’re going to shoot me anyway if that happens. But...understood Admiral. If we get boarded, I’ll fill the databanks with lead myself if I have to.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Moreno’s expression softened a bit, “Once we make planetfall, I’ll tell you.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Sure you will,” Mrowka looked away again, “And this is why I make friends with pirates. At least they’re honest and straightforward."</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>In a flash of emotion, Mrowka considered running after Katey and taking her up on her offer. It would be a good display for the troops. She forced that idea down. It wasn't worth it just to prove a point. She considered that first thought though. She </span>
  <em>
    <span>could</span>
  </em>
  <span> take up the offer, but it would be safer to alert her security escort at least. Holland was going to have a </span>
  <em>
    <span>fit</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Speaking of which…</span>
  </em>
  <span> On the way back down the dome, Mrowka stuck her head in the recovery ward. Holland was still there. Mrowka almost went away until she heard it. "</span>
  <strong>
    <em>
      <span>For these green hills are not highland hills or the island's hills, they're not my land's hills, fair as these green foreign hills may be, they are not the hills of home…</span>
    </em>
  </strong>
  <span>"</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Holland was </span>
  <em>
    <span>singing</span>
  </em>
  <span>. Mrowka smiled softly. She slowly closed the door, and went back down the hall.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The heart rate monitor arched again.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0017"><h2>17. Springtime for Triarchs</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Winter for humans and snakes!</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Column Leader Prime Sharif sat down at his desk for his morning email check. It was a ritual he did regularly right after waking up. His job was a busy one, after all, especially on this deployment. He took heart in the fact that it would be soon over. He scrolled through the standard housekeeping tasks, signing papers here and there. At last, he finally came to the usual whining about their Broken guests.</p><p> </p><p>He frowned at the message. Despite the encounter with <em> Carmen’s </em>  captain, he hadn’t been deterred. He’d been surprised but knew(or at least insisted) that finding the rest, and then taking care of The Patron would solve everything. It  <em> had </em> to.</p><p> </p><p>The message perplexed him. It was a video file, without much of a description. Just a standard priority status subject line. Sharif clicked the video link. He furrowed his brow at it. A group of humans from the <em> Carmen </em> sat around a few tables in holding. There was nothing significant about it for a moment.</p><p> </p><p>Then one human female stood up. She looked around at the others, who looked back at her. "<em> You know, I heard a rumor. The Triarchs are so old, right, their pussies are haunted! </em>"</p><p> </p><p>Sharif's jaw dropped. A human spat out their drink. And the others started <em> laughing. </em> It wasn't much, but it was already horrifying. How could they do this?</p><p> </p><p>"<em> It's just a rumor, but you know, it's hard to not believe. When was the last time those bastards got laid? If it was recent, why else would they be so intent on keeping the rest of us from getting laid?" </em></p><p> </p><p>The other humans laughed a bit more. The woman grinned, and gestured at the bulkheads, "<em> I mean Jesus, what's with those bloody uptight pricks? Platonic relationships only? Man, I knew a person who married their spaceship. Just let these people fuck! Seriously, get a few drinks in me and I'd bang that lizard dude outside, no sweat! </em>"</p><p> </p><p>Sharif's jaw fell even further. She made that declaration not even out of love, as so many advocates did, but for simple carnal pleasure?</p><p> </p><p>The woman laughed and got on one of the tables. "<em> Jesus, either they're just a bunch of prudes, or they're jealous! Just cuz the rest of us wanna fuck each other, why do they gotta ruin our fun? What, something about… </em> " she paused for a moment, as if she couldn't think of the word, " <em> I don't know, cohesion? I mean, what's the big deal? Why's it their business what we do in our bedrooms? What do they say? 'They can do what they want so long as they don't involve us'? What're they involving? </em> " She  <em> laughed </em> yet again. The audacity! Didn't she know what she was doing? And the rest of the Broken were laughing too!</p><p> </p><p>She stood on one leg, swinging the other up a bit. She was either inebriated or sleep-deprived, "<em> What, do they think one of those cat things and a Tribune are gonna be going at it, there's fur flying everywhere, then one of them shouts the safe word, 'Confessor'! Cat dude stops, 'what, what is it?' 'We should get that Triarch involved!' </em>   <em> 'Aw, that's a great idea! Why didn't I think of that? </em>'"</p><p> </p><p>Sharif blinked very slowly. The humans were laughing so hard.</p><p> </p><p>"<em> So they pull on some shirts, there's fur everywhere, and whatever the hell the doggies shed, they go outside and find the nearest hovercar, it's the middle of the night, it's raining, they go down like ten klicks. Takes 'em like an hour. That Triarch is just sitting there, watching paint dry, hears a knock at the door," </em>  she rolled her eyes exaggeratedly, "' <em> Damn, third time this week', </em> " she swung around dramatically, "' <em> Ya damn clients, I told you not to involve me </em>!'"</p><p> </p><p>Sharif slowly buried his face in his hands. The humiliation. How much damage had this done? Was this a prelude to a suicide attempt perhaps? But the others didn’t take it seriously. "What have you done…?"</p><p> </p><p> The sound of more laughter answered a resounding "no". One human was pounding a table in amusement. They weren’t afraid, at least not in the way they should be. They didn’t seem to fear the consequences.</p><p> </p><p>"<em> I mean  </em> damn <em> , have you  </em> seen <em>  their porn? Look at that stuff, it's boring as hell! One of those fish guys and a Thoughtful go and get coffee on a sunny day and gaze longingly into each other's eyes? What the fuck? Where's the action? </em>"</p><p> </p><p>The woman stepped down off the table and climbed onto another, "<em> I heard some people out there wondering if life in the Compact is any good. Of course! Life was already better yesterday than it will be tomorrow! </em>"</p><p> </p><p>More laughter. The woman paced around on the larger table, "<em> I will say one thing about the puppies. The Compact construction industry is pretty great! </em>"</p><p> </p><p>There was a pause. Sharif was almost hopeful.</p><p> </p><p>"<em> They're great at making planet-sized parking lots! 'Get 'em while they glow! Bone removal is extra'! </em>"</p><p> </p><p>Sharif was horrified yet again. How callous, how could she make such jokes?</p><p> </p><p>"<em> Anyone ever tried to use a Commie-constructed bathroom? Jesus fucking christ, talk about compensating for something </em>!" Sharif facepalmed.</p><p> </p><p>The woman shrugged, "<em> You know what they say about Terran engineering. I heard during the war the boffins had a lot of secret weapons against the doggies. We just couldn't deploy a dog whistle in space, we couldn't find enough flea collars, and we didn't have a big enough rolled-up newspaper! </em>"</p><p> </p><p>Sharif couldn't tell if that was racist or not. All he cared was that they dared to mock, <em> mock </em> , the Compact, and a Ruling Race. And the  <em> Triarchs </em>. They mocked the Triarchs. How could they commit such a heinous act?</p><p> </p><p>The woman laughed, again pacing around the large table, "<em> Why did they want Earth anyway? I mean come on, you try and import colonialism, and after the ten-year plan you've got to import the water to a place like Oceanus! </em>"</p><p> </p><p>She was describing their...Sharif felt his gag reflex about to trigger. She described the destruction of their homes. He couldn't even <em> think </em>  of it. How could she make jokes about this? The bigger question, how could her people  <em> laugh  </em>about such a tragedy? This was beneath them! Sure, the enlisted might make such jokes, but Broken weren't meant for this.</p><p> </p><p>“<em> You know they’d be happier if they flung the comets at the dead planets instead of the living ones! What a waste of water! </em> ” She put a hand over her mouth in mock shock, “ <em> Ah, but there’s no waste in the glorious Compact, after all, is there? Can’t have this disrupting their orderly universe! </em>”</p><p> </p><p>Sharif’s jaw hadn’t closed in the slightest.</p><p> </p><p>The human put a hand to her ear and quirked her brow, “<em> Hey, you think we get ten more years out of this for saying whoever’s flying this tub’s an idiot? Or a jerk? </em>”</p><p> </p><p>"<em> So these three people walk into a bar, the Triarch, the Thoughtful, and a Tribune. Triarch sees a human. So he gets the Thoughtful to make a bomb, has the Tribune throw it at the human, then when they're all fighting, he steals their wallets when they're not looking! </em> " It wasn't even a particularly good joke, but when the laughs subsided, she added, " <em> Oh, and he sets the bar on fire on the way out. </em>"</p><p> </p><p>Sharif scowled.</p><p> </p><p>"<em> I wonder if I've got any relatives on Rally. Jeez, hope they don't sue me. In-laws are one thing, but what about your great-great-great… </em> " she went on a long list of "great", " <em> ... grand descendants? Oof." </em></p><p> </p><p>Sharif's slack face quirked an eyebrow.</p><p> </p><p>"<em> If my great-great grand niece married an alien, I'd say congrats, just let me talk with them, </em> " she winked, " <em> No, not for race reasons, I just gotta scope this one out. And if they don't work out, I know a guy, does good work, just don't ask too many questions. </em>"</p><p> </p><p>Sharif's other eyebrow went up.</p><p> </p><p>"<em> That's the Compact for you, right? Don't ask questions. Oh don't get me wrong, free speech is allowed, we just disagree on guaranteeing freedom  </em> after  <em> the speech! </em>"</p><p> </p><p>"It's a lie…" Sharif grunted, "What you’re saying is harmful. That’s the only limitation!”</p><p> </p><p>"<em> The dang Triarchs are pretty darn paranoid. I hear they have the biggest system defenses out of anyone. But when you ask them why they say 'What, we're not xenophobic or racist, it's for defensive'... </em> " She halted and leaned on a part of the table. It creaked loudly and she gasped, " <em> 'What was that? Are there Broken in the ceiling?!' Sir, that was just my chair! </em>"</p><p> </p><p> She made a whoosh sound with her mouth and flinched exaggeratedly, "<em> 'What was that? Are there Broken in my house?!' That was the toilet flushing! </em>"</p><p> </p><p>The laughter beat into Sharif's skull. He seethed.</p><p> </p><p>The female scratched her head, "<em> Hey, anyone heard about Triarch marriages? I don't even know if that's a thing they do. But divorces, or whatever they have, must be a bitch! What, you think they have no-fault divorce laws? Can't have unhappy marriages in your perfect world! </em>"</p><p> </p><p>The woman grinned as the others laughed, "<em> How many Tribunes does it take to screw up a lightbulb? One to point at a human to do it for you, another to berate them, and the rest to bow and worship the Triarchs! </em>"</p><p> </p><p>Sharif leaned his head back and rubbed his face with his hands as they kept laughing. They wouldn’t stop <em> laughing </em> . They were laughing at the Compact. Laughing at the Triarchs. The Broken were mocking them. He plugged his ears as the human female made another joke. How could they do this? It was disrespectful! Impious! Profane! It was  <em> blasphemy </em>! “Blasphemy…” Sharif muttered almost unconsciously.</p><p> </p><p>“<em> I knew a Triarch who tried to steal candy from a baby. Trouble was, he couldn’t figure out how without committing a war crime! </em>”</p><p> </p><p>“Stop it…” Sharif mumbled.</p><p> </p><p>“<em> Hey, I heard a good one! </em> ” another human called out. The female gestured to the other, and the second woman stood up, “ <em> See, I heard on Rally that all the old ships and shit are on display so everyone can go and look at all them. All that stuff we used to own. ‘Hey, no hard feelings for the genocide, you can come in and look at it,  </em> stay behind the red rope <em> ’! Why didn’t they get along more with the Brits is my question, but you know, they all have something in common! </em>”</p><p> </p><p>"‘Get along more with the Brits’...?” Sharif muttered aloud.</p><p> </p><p>“<em> What’s that? </em>” the first human asked the second speaker good-naturedly.</p><p> </p><p>“<em> None of those bastards can figure out when something’s radioactive! Have you seen how close they stand to those drives in the photos? All my engineers in here, what’s the recommended distance? One meter? Two meters? </em>”</p><p> </p><p>“<em> Five </em>!” an engineer called out and laughed.</p><p> </p><p>“Stop it,” Sharif said to the recording.</p><p> </p><p>“<em> Those guys are gonna be dropping from radiation poisoning. I’d say like flies but I don’t know if there’s anyone with wings and compound eyes out there. I wouldn’t want to offend them. </em>”</p><p> </p><p>“But Tribunes are okay?” Sharif snarled.</p><p> </p><p>“<em> Some of my best friends are flies! </em>” one human said.</p><p> </p><p>“<em> Those are bees, Heffin! </em>”</p><p> </p><p>“<em> And they have a lot more personality than you do! </em>”</p><p> </p><p>“<em> Look, flies, wasps, lizards, sharks, whatever, it’s still better than those damn grim reapers! I mean do they know the meaning of the word ‘irony’? </em> ” the first human female asked with a laugh. “ <em> Funny the flies we haven’t even met yet are better friends than the space dogs who hate our guts! </em>”</p><p> </p><p>Sharif quickly typed out “grim reaper” into his database on humans. His hands went flat on the keyboard. There was a still image of a figure in a black robe, a human <em> skeleton </em> , in the foreground with a primitive farming tool carving out the grain in a field. There were columns of smoke in the distance. Then he realized what the grains were. Closer to the viewer the grains were detailed to resemble  <em> people </em> . Broken, in various uniforms, being cut down like grain. The grim reaper. Did they  <em> dare  </em> to compare the Triarchs to their deity of death? To this monstrous image? To compare the great, kind, and benevolent leaders of the oldest and wisest interstellar civilization the galaxy had ever known? They  <em> dared </em>?</p><p> </p><p>They laughed. They dared to <em> mock  </em> and  <em> laugh </em>  at the  <em> Triarchs? </em> Didn’t they know what they were doing? There was nothing funny about their leaders. There was nothing to joke about. This was serious business.</p><p> </p><p>“<em> ...You’d think these fuckers could lighten the fuck up once in a while! </em>” the recording shouted as if in answer to his thoughts.</p><p> </p><p>Sharif shut off the video feed. He thought of the calming mantras he had known since he was young, that all the confessors taught. <em> Service is peace, obedience brings clarity… </em></p><p> </p><p>Sharif hadn’t had any clarity since this mission started. He could only hope things would make sense eventually. Even irrational things like this.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>
  <strong> XXXXX </strong>
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>“<em> General quarters, general quarters. All hands to battle stations! Up and forward on your starboard side, down and aft on your port side. Set material condition Zebra throughout the ship. Unscheduled warp point detected. Repeat unscheduled warp point detected. </em>”</p><p> </p><p>The alarms <em> whooped </em> throughout the vessel, a shrill tone that ground into one’s head loud enough to wake the dead. Sailors leaped from their trays in the mess halls in a mad scramble to reach the doors. Some wolfed down what they had or carried it, and took off. Groggy figures rolled from their bunks and grabbed boots and jackets, barely awake. They stumbled past men and women rushing from the showers still soaked to grab their gear. One soldier threw a book onto a pile in one of the ship’s libraries and caused a domino effect that knocked over several others in her rush to exit. A librarian stopped to get the books out of the way before taking off for their battle station.</p><p> </p><p>Tens of thousands of soldiers rushed through corridors, following the flow of traffic as announced by the loudspeaker. Engineers and technicians pulled on emergency gear, from pressure suits to firefighting equipment, and many personnel put on fireproof hoods. Marines moved to the brig and put on protective equipment with the Naval personnel. Logistics staff closed down their shops, shut off kitchens, secured hydroponics, and secured anything loose they could. Blast doors and energy fields closed around observation lounges, recreation decks were deactivated, and both were swept for loose objects that could become lethal projectiles. The abandoned mess hall trays were thankfully magnetized to the tables for this exact situation; they didn’t have the staff to collect them, and they didn’t want them to go flying either.</p><p> </p><p>Gun crews entered their weapon bays. Those that dealt with the weapons themselves pulled on light hardsuits, affixed breathers, and scrambled to their positions. The larger turrets were massive cramped complexes with little room for their crews. They were ants through a giant anthill. Manual systems were checked, then switched to automatic. The gun directors, missile crews, and technicians, isolated from the outer hull, sat down at computer terminals in rooms reminiscent of 21st-century naval vessel CICs, only multiplied on a much larger scale. They called out status reports and spoke to other parts of the ship.</p><p>Enormous metal slugs were hoisted into position, helped along by crew in mechanical exoskeletons, and watched over by petty officers. Energy weapon mounts powered up, every system carefully watched for any sign of fluctuation or danger. Missile racks were examined, circuits tested, and launch doors prepped.</p><p> </p><p>They were professionals, Mrowka noted with satisfaction as she stepped off the elevator. She held a half-empty mug of coffee and a PDA. She returned the salutes of the Marines guarding the command deck and continued past to the bridge. Rivera looked up as she entered, and moved through the consoles to her.“What’ve we got, Commander?" It had been a week since the snake ambassador's fuss. On top of Mrowka's already-intense anxiety about the enemy, she was worried something else might come their way from that direction. They’d already had drills today. Something was wrong. Whether that was a sensor glitch or an enemy fleet, she had no idea. She was leaning toward the former at the moment.</p><p> </p><p>Rivera grimaced, “Unscheduled Shade ship. They warped in and sent a transmission via comm laser to the <em> Pious Transgression. </em> They didn’t want us listening in.”</p><p> </p><p>Mrowka cursed, “Tell the fleet to stand to. Civilian ships are to await instructions, as per the admiral’s standing orders. I don’t know what they’ve got planned, but we might be about to get into a shooting war.”</p><p> </p><p>“Yes, ma’am.” He glanced around, then asked in a low voice, “...What do you make of our chances?”</p><p> </p><p>“It’s a sin to gamble, isn’t it?”</p><p> </p><p>“How should I know? I’m a Foundationist.” Rivera paused, then sniffed the air. He looked at Mrowka’s cup, “What’s that smell?”</p><p> </p><p>Mrowka drained the cup, blinked a bit, and shoved the cup into his hand, “Tribune coffee.” She walked past him to her seat. The commander looked at her, then sniffed the cup. He flinched and passed it to a nearby sailor standing idle. Rivera walked up to his position near the captain and sat down. He glanced at the screens. It would be a few minutes before they got any news.</p><p> </p><p>“Where did you <em> get </em> it?" Rivera whispered to the captain.</p><p> </p><p>"Some of the supply runs from the Shades, where else? We gotta stretch our supplies somehow,” Mrowka replied, turning her seat, "Katey recommended it, though it's not exactly <em> coffee </em> per se, that's just basically what it is. Dunno what they make it from, it's not beans."</p><p> </p><p>"Captain, are you sure you want to take a stimulant meant for a <em> Tribune </em>?" Rivera asked carefully, and wondered if he should check her vital signs, "That could be like some sort of amphetamines."</p><p> </p><p>"It's not meth, it's just like coffee <em> on </em> meth." She chuckled, and made a dismissive wave, "It's fine, I'm perfectly fine--" Mrowka paused, and furrowed her brow. She turned her head and took her pulse. She tilted her head back and forth in a so-so gesture, "...eh, yeah, I'm fine."</p><p> </p><p>Rivera peered at her for a moment. "...Is it a good brand?"</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>Over the next few minutes, there was a rise in activity around the system. "Laser transmissions and encoded messages between <em> Pious Transgression </em> and all major Shade Flotilla assets," Comms reported.</p><p> </p><p>"Shade warships going on alert, they're lighting off their engines." Sensors reported, "They're not moving to intercept any of our ships. Trajectory estimates say they're gathering into squadrons."</p><p> </p><p>They continued calling out information. There were more and more transmissions in the clear. The entire system was going on high alert. All the ships of the worlds the Shades were protecting warped in the direction of home. Picket ships, scouts, and courier drones flew off toward shift limits. There were calls for armaments and supplies for each combat vessel.</p><p> </p><p>Admiral Moreno made it to the bridge and was briefed on the situation. "Stand down to condition three. It's not us they're after, I think company's coming. Order all civilian ships to close ranks with us. Keep the capital ships close to us, and have the escorts round up anyone who's loitering or still on the ground. If it can fly, I want it moving."</p><p> </p><p>A series of "ayes" went around the command deck. It was almost an hour before the Shades sent them a message. Commander Rivera stepped over to speak in a low voice, "Compact perimeter has increased presence of warships. They say there's a fleet building out there."</p><p> </p><p>Mrowka cursed. Moreno looked at Rivera, "I thought we had more time."</p><p> </p><p>"They're not coming in yet. The Shades said that specifically." Rivera frowned, "No, we've got something worse."</p><p> </p><p>"Red Death outbreak?" Mrowka grunted sarcastically.</p><p> </p><p>Rivera handed over a PDA wordlessly. Mrowka took it. Her eyes widened. She looked at her XO, and he nodded once exaggeratedly. Mrowka turned to the admiral. "They sent a message to the Shades, but...there was a message for us."</p><p> </p><p>"Excuse me?"</p><p> </p><p>Mrowka looked back at the pad and read aloud, "To the leadership of the United Earth Confederacy..."</p><p> </p><p>Moreno coughed, "Back up, start again. Commander, what is going on?"</p><p> </p><p>"Sorry, ma'am. Message from the Compact. There's an execution force sitting on the edge of the perimeter poised to wipe us all out. But they're not here for the Shades. They're after us specifically. And they sent us a message."</p><p> </p><p>Mrowka passed over the pad, and Moreno took it. There was a slight tremor to her hands. <em> Damn it, gotta lay off the coffee. </em></p><p> </p><p>"<em> To: Rear Admiral Nieves Moreno, United Earth Confederacy Navy, Battle Fleet  </em></p><p>
  <em> From: Column Leader Prime Sharif (etc), Compact Space Force, Kaedan Vault Garrison commanding </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Rear Admiral Moreno, I speak to you in the name of peace, and as a fellow officer. I command a detachment under the authority of the Compact of Species approaching your system within the next week. You have led us on a long chase through space, and you have found temporary shelter, but this will no longer suffice. The Shade Flotilla has no hope of victory over our forces. Please do not take this as a threat. I do not wish to harm you. However, I know you have little reason to believe this. You have legitimate grievances that must be addressed. But I do not want to resolve this through violence. In my capacity as an officer of the Compact of Species, I respectfully request that we meet in person in neutral territory so that we may resolve this situation. I promise you no harm will come. I know you may not trust me or my word of honor, so I wish you to instead trust Nanhar. I know him, and he can verify the value of my word. I give my word that I have no ulterior motive, I simply wish to talk. </em>
</p><p> </p><p><em> We know who you are. We know where you come from. Your vessel  </em> Carmen <em>  is in our custody. We know who you really are. As a show of good faith, if you will meet with me, we will arrange for an exchange of prisoners during the conference. We have in our custody the crew of the starship  </em> Carmen <em> , and we have reason to believe you have Compact citizens in your custody. If you will meet with us, we will deliver you a portion of the ship’s crew in exchange for an equal number of your prisoners. I give my word that I have no ulterior motive, I simply wish to talk. Thank you, I hope you will accept our proposal. </em>”</p><p> </p><p>Moreno's hands stopped shaking. She looked at the other officers. Her eyes flicked to their insignia. She looked around at the command deck. The whole crew went about their duties as they had done so faithfully. The last of the UECN Battle Fleet. End of the line.</p><p> </p><p>“Admiral, I recommend immediate evasion,” Rivera said, “We offload everyone we can from the <em> Arthur C Clarke </em>, and go to warp. We can ask the Principality representative where his fleet is coming from and meet them halfway, but we need to move fast.”</p><p> </p><p>“Rivera, what do you want to do, leave <em> Clarke  </em>behind? Are you nuts?” Mrowka hissed, “We can’t take everyone, and I doubt the Shades have any ships for us.”</p><p> </p><p>“Captain, with all due respect, we’ve got to prioritize here!”</p><p> </p><p>“Damn it...I know,” Mrowka hit her armrest lightly, “Admiral, orders?”</p><p> </p><p>“At ease, both of you,” Moreno said firmly, “We need to contact the Shades, and figure out what their plan is.” The controlled panic of the other officers faded. She looked between the two, “We’re not alone in this, people. Not anymore. The fact that the Shades are panicking as much as we are tells me their leaders at least weren’t in on this. We have allies, no matter how few they are. Help <em> is  </em>coming, even if it’s going to take a while.”</p><p> </p><p>Like them, the casualty projections and rock-and-a-hard-place calculations had been running through her head. It was the burden of UEC officers. They had to choose who lived and who died, how many, or how few resources to spend. It was like the Cold War. Thirty or three million? Moreno scowled in determination, “We’re going to work the problem. This <em> isn’t </em>  the war we knew. We have to remember that. And we’re not going to leave  <em> anyone </em>  behind if we can help it. Not again. We’ve seen too many planets burn, and we’ve lost too many people to do it again. I am well aware that if we aren’t willing to abandon some, we could lose everyone, but it’s one thing to lose the  <em> Signy Mallory </em> , and another to lose  <em> Clarke </em>. I am not about to let a ship that big die without a fight.” Moreno sighed, “If we have to, we will. But we’re going to try everything we can first.”</p><p> </p><p>Mrowka and Rivera nodded grimly. They knew they couldn’t leave <em> Clarke </em>  behind lightly. It was one of their biggest transports, loaded down with tens of thousands of people in and out of stasis, along with supplies, databanks, equipment, and livestock. They had to do something. "So. Is the jig up?" The captain asked quietly, “How did they know enough about us to write this?” She scowled, “They’ve got  <em> Carmen. </em>”</p><p> </p><p>“They could be lying. A spy could’ve gotten out after we arrived. If one of the civvies compromised opsec, they might have mentioned something about her.” Rivera said, and grimaced, “With all due respect, myself and others <em> did  </em>recommend that we take more security precautions--”</p><p> </p><p>“We did our best, but we only had so many engineers who weren’t about to drop and had sufficient training for the job,” Moreno said carefully, and cast her eyes down, “I’m not sure it could be helped at all.”</p><p> </p><p>Mrowka shrugged, “Besides, how the hell were we supposed to know it would get up this high on the chain of command? How would you feel if I told you I was a...uh…”</p><p> </p><p>“Member of the Czech Legion,” Moreno suggested, without looking up, “It’s about as obscure as we are.”</p><p> </p><p>“I’ll take your word for it, ma’am. That. If I told you I was with them you’d think I was a nutbar! Trust me, Kat...Kaitet doesn’t believe for a second I’m from Mars,” Her hand curled into a fist, “If we tried to wait until we could muster up enough staff to do the job without any risk, it would take way too long to repair the ship, and even if we could get that many people...why the hell <em> wouldn’t </em> they be mad?" Rivera looked away sheepishly, unable to form an answer. Mrowka continued, “And which is more likely? That a few of our workers got drunk, had a slip-up, and a spy got out? Or maybe they captured and tortured eighty of our people and a ship that hasn't been seen in two-thousand years and got all their evidence there?”</p><p> </p><p>“It’s equally likely,” Moreno said, “How dissatisfied are most of the Shades? How many of them would be willing to give us up in exchange for leniency? These may be half pirates, but the other half are revolutionaries. Any one of them could’ve gotten cold feet.”</p><p> </p><p>“But if they figured out who we are, why haven’t they come in guns blazing? That’s what they did to Earth!” Rivera exclaimed, “Even if most of them don’t remember us, the ones who do are pretty upset if the Shades are anything to go by!”</p><p> </p><p>“They must think we’re crazy reenactors like everyone else does,” Mrowka grunted.</p><p> </p><p>Rivera spoke, "Whatever the case, we need to figure out something<em>  fast </em>. If the Shades are planning a last stand, our ships aren’t going to be able to stand up to any kind of punishment. We’d just be a drop in the bucket.”</p><p> </p><p>“Not necessarily," Mrowka pointed out, "The enemy only has our old specs, not our new weapons. We’d have the element of surprise. And we might be able to take down a few of them. Our new weapons are still pretty damned powerful even being driven in first gear...But we’d still get smashed if they brought anything heavier than a light cruiser, or even more than one."</p><p> </p><p>"But we <em> can  </em>still hit them. We have a weapon, even if it's just one. We need to keep that in mind." Moreno said.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>A communications officer stepped up, “Sir? Ma’ams? The <em> Pious Transgression </em> is hailing us.”</p><p> </p><p>Moreno got to her feet, “Thank you. We’ll take it in the briefing room.”</p><p> </p><p>“Tell the ambassador to meet us up here,” Mrowka ordered, and gestured to her XO, “Rivera, you have the bridge.”</p><p> </p><p>“Aye, ma’am. I have the deck.”</p><p> </p><p>They moved quickly to the briefing room. Nanhar and Kaitet were on the monitor the instant the door shut. Moreno folded her arms, “Ladies and gentlemen, we’re in trouble.”</p><p> </p><p>“<em> On that, we can agree, Admiral, </em>” Nanhar grunted.</p><p> </p><p>“<em> We didn’t think they’d come for us this soon, </em>” Kaitet said with a grimace.</p><p> </p><p>The door opened just then, and Mason moved inside, “Sorry I’m late!”</p><p> </p><p>The corner of Kaitet’s mouth turned up, “<em> That seems to be a habit of yours, Ambassador. </em>”</p><p> </p><p>“Please pardon me,” Mason said apologetically, “I only just learned what is happening. So the Compact is finally coming for us?”</p><p> </p><p>“<em> They seem to be coming specifically for  </em> you <em> , </em> ” Nanhar said, “ <em> I don’t know what Sharif would want from you, but I can’t imagine it’s good. </em>”</p><p> </p><p>“His message to us mentioned you by name. Do you know him?” Mason asked.</p><p> </p><p>Nanhar laughed, “<em> I knew him at the academy.  </em> This <em>  Sharif? </em> " He looked at a datapad to be sure it  <em> was </em>  this Sharif, " <em> I don't think you have anything to worry about. </em>"</p><p> </p><p>"Why not?" The diplomat asked, “Do you know why he’s after us? And why is he addressing us like this?”</p><p> </p><p>“<em> I have no idea. But he’s nothing if not honest. He's so 'honorable' and decent it hurts. The man was notoriously easy to prank at the academy. </em>"</p><p> </p><p><em> I presume Tribune pranks are shotguns rigged to doors… </em> Mrowka thought. "But what does it matter? He's still an enemy combatant."</p><p> </p><p>Moreno frowned, her arms crossed. Mason put a hand to his chin, "They're unusually addressing us. Most Compact authorities don't even bother to address us at all. It looks like they're trying to speak our language."</p><p> </p><p>"<em> My compliments. They don't usually do that unless they consider you a big enough threat. I wonder what's going on out there. </em>" Kaitet looked off into the distance for a moment.</p><p> </p><p>"Thanks, Katey," Mrowka grumbled.</p><p> </p><p>“What are your plans to respond to this? How can we help?” Mason asked.</p><p> </p><p>“<em> We knew this day was coming. We’ve got plans to make them bleed. We’re already evacuating as many of our people as we can. We won’t go quietly, they can count on that, </em> ” Kaitet said with determination, but furrowed her brow, “ <em> But Sharif said they wouldn’t advance. He sent a message to us as well, that they won’t advance until you send an answer to their inquiry. </em>”</p><p> </p><p>“Did he specify what this neutral territory was?” Mason asked.</p><p> </p><p>“<em> I think we can haggle about it, </em>” Kaitet said.</p><p> </p><p>“<em> Standard procedure for this is to send a single spacecraft to the area, and keep the fleet back at a distance, </em> ” Nanhar said. " <em> Sharif is  </em> very <em>  by the book. </em>"</p><p> </p><p>Mason looked between the two parties, “It sounds to me like this is an incipient rather than in-progress attack. What is standard procedure whenever the Space Force does this sort of thing?"</p><p> </p><p>"<em> It depends on the individual officer. Sometimes they have higher orders, sometimes they're allowed to behave at their discretion. With Sharif, it could be either. But no matter what, he's not laying a trap. At least, not to trap whoever he's negotiating with. He'd think it rude. </em> " Nanhar snorted a little. Was he laughing at the last sentence, or at not stabbing someone in the back during a diplomatic meeting? " <em> As I said, he's by the book. The book says during negotiations to reserve 'X' amount of time after sending the message, 'Y' amount of time while negotiating, and 'Z' amount before you engage. The numbers tend to change a lot…" </em></p><p> </p><p>"<em> Not to mention a lot of officers just ignore the fine print… </em> " Kaitet muttered, “ <em> You get a lot of officers who get assigned to duty stations and told ‘forget everything you learned at the academy’. </em>”</p><p> </p><p>Nanhar grimaced, "<em> Not Sharif. Trust me, he's by the book. He will follow those numbers to the letter. </em>"</p><p> </p><p>"Are you recommending we negotiate with him?" Mason asked carefully.</p><p> </p><p>All eyes, even Kaitet, looked at Nanhar, and he didn't seem that surprised. "<em> Well, it's not like we have any other options. What, nobody thought of this? </em> " He leaned forward in his chair, " <em> Look, all of us need time to get out of here. Even a few hours can make a difference. He'll negotiate with you in good faith, he won't plan a thing, he just doesn't work that way. </em>"</p><p> </p><p>"If he's still the same doggy you knew in college, at least," Mrowka pointed out. Moreno realized with a start. she forgot she'd banned the captain from negotiations permanently.<em>  Stupid mistake. Damn </em> ,  <em> I need more coffee. </em></p><p> </p><p>Nanhar laughed again, "<em> He didn't change in four years. Trust me. He's the same old Sharif. </em>"</p><p> </p><p>Moreno quickly signed "<em> please be quiet </em> " in spacer sign language at the captain, then returned her gaze to the screen. Mrowka gave her a sidelong glance but returned a  <em> "yes ma'am </em>".</p><p> </p><p>"...<em> If we don't answer ol' Sharif, even he will come in guns blazing </em> ," Nanhar continued, " <em> And we need to buy time to prepare. We can maximize that if we at least pretend to listen. He'll play it by the book, a ‘go in peace, leave in peace’ negotiation. So he’ll send only a diplomatic shuttle, then leave to get his fleet before he comes back. If we meet with him, it'll buy us a few days, and no matter how sour negotiations go, there will be at least a little time before he launches an attack. So we buy time to prepare our defenses, we fight them for every centimeter of space, and get enough time to get as many people out as we can. </em>"</p><p> </p><p>Mrowka rolled her eyes. Moreno frowned. For what a jerk the man was, he was still a good strategist. She looked at Mason. He grimaced, "That's a risky plan, Column Leader Prime."</p><p> </p><p>"<em> Risky, but it could work. We don't have any other options do we? </em>"</p><p> </p><p>"Ms. Kaitet?" Mason asked.</p><p> </p><p>Kaitet scratched her head, "<em> It's risky alright, but he has a point. We need every hour we can get. Admiral? </em>"</p><p> </p><p>Moreno's frown deepened. "We'll have to discuss it on our end, seeing as this plan relies entirely on us."</p><p> </p><p>Nanhar opened his mouth to comment, but no sound came out, and he closed it again. Kaitet nodded, "<em> Very well, Admiral. We'll continue our evacuation and preparations as planned for now. </em>"</p><p> </p><p>"Excellent. We'll call you when we have something," Mason said.</p><p> </p><p>The monitor winked out, and all three humans looked at each other. Mrowka started to sign something, and Moreno rolled her eyes, "Permission to speak, Captain."</p><p> </p><p>Mrowka grinned mischievously despite their situation, but quickly grew serious, "We need ONI on everything we got from them immediately. There's no telling what could be hiding in that message. I'm not talking viruses, I'm thinking about speech patterns, grammar, anything we might have missed, anything that could give us more information. It could tie into every problem we've been having from the start. Hell, maybe it would explain that shadow we had."</p><p> </p><p>Moreno nodded, "Very good. Get on it, Captain," she looked at Mason, "Mr. Mason, can you brief the president on what's happening? I want to talk to him as soon as ONI gets back with a report."</p><p> </p><p>"Yes, Admiral."</p><p> </p><p>Moreno nodded again, "Move it, people. We've got a war on our hands again."</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>
  <strong> XXXXX </strong>
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>A few hours later, Mrowka and Moreno were in the briefing room again. The officers, restrained as they were, looked agitated. And upset. Transmissions had been exchanged between them, the <em> Endurance </em> , the cruisers, the one or two small Marine transports they had in the fleet, the auxiliaries, Navy One, and any other remaining UECN assets with intelligence staff aboard. Navy One reassured the civilians that things were fine, but the military didn't allow them to listen in on their transmissions. They didn't want  <em> anyone </em> listening.</p><p> </p><p>Moreno paced back and forth. Mrowka played a game on her PDA, desperate to take her mind off things. There were several other devices scattered around the table and a half-full container of water. There was even actual paper. They'd brought out some pretty old documents. They waited for the monitor to display. One of their aides finally came on, "<em> Transmission from Navy One. </em>"</p><p> </p><p>"Put them through," Mrowka ordered.</p><p> </p><p>"<em> Stand by. </em>"</p><p> </p><p>The monitor snapped on and displayed the president in his office. It was a small suite aboard Navy One, but it did the job. Mrowka got to her feet, and both officers saluted. Pearce nodded in reply, "<em> Admiral, Captain. Good to see you. </em>"</p><p> </p><p>"Likewise, sir," Moreno said, "I wish it was under better circumstances."</p><p> </p><p>"<em> Yes, don't we all. Negotiating with the Compact isn't something I expected to do again for a long time. Frankly, I thought if they found us this soon they wouldn't bother saying hello. </em>"</p><p> </p><p>"Yes sir," Moreno said. She stopped pacing by the table and drummed her hands on the table. "We've gotten our analysis back from ONI."</p><p> </p><p>"<em> Something tells me it's worse news than usual. </em>"</p><p> </p><p>Moreno nodded again, "There was a lot of data to analyze. They had to go back through war records to analyze their previous exchanges with us, consider their tactics, what they must know about us, their opinions of us, and the current political climate."</p><p> </p><p>"We know something is happening on the Principality front. It's one reason they haven't had the chance to send someone out here. So something big must've changed for them to not only reinforce the blockade, but be able to send an entire execution force after us, and us specifically. They're willing to accept the losses of attacking the Shades if it means getting us." Mrowka explained, "It won't be a big force, but it's enough to try and dislodge us."</p><p> </p><p>"<em> Yes, we know all this. What are you getting at? </em> " Pearce asked neutrally, " <em> Why do they want us specifically? </em>"</p><p> </p><p>Moreno scratched her head, "Intel has some ideas about why. Now, we don't have a consensus, but intel suggests…" Moreno tapped her foot as she considered how to put it, "This Sharif may know who we really are."</p><p> </p><p>The room went cold. "<em> What do you have to support this, Admiral? </em>"</p><p> </p><p>Mrowka picked up one of the other PDAs on the table, "Our analysts went over his letter. They found some additional clues from the last few months, from the <em> Carmen </em>  to whoever hired those mercs on the space station where we picked up our smuggler. Those mercs were trying to capture our people alive, and if they got enough of  <em> Carmen  </em> intact, they could figure out where she came from. Odds are based on her age most ships and colonies would have her IFF. If the Compact captured even a fraction of our databases, they could've found  <em> Carmen's </em> ID in it."</p><p> </p><p>"<em> That's not very solid evidence, but I can see it's possible. </em> " Pearce said in his firm voice, " <em> What else do you have? </em>"</p><p> </p><p>Moreno nodded, "No, it isn't solid sir, but we don't have anything better. Intel can't imagine why else they would be so willing to negotiate with us other than they suspect who we are. The Compact only ever negotiate with pirates if they were at a disadvantage locally or they have something they want. ONI noted the language Sharif used. He addressed me specifically by name, rank, and the Battle Fleet. <em> Not  </em>the Blue Avians. They've either deduced we're crazy reenactors like the captain suggested… or they found a beacon we didn't catch back at the black hole."</p><p> </p><p>"Even if they didn't get one of our databases, the Commies loved to get ship ID during the war for demoralizing purposes," Mrowka pointed out, "They shot the hell out of the <em> Prodigal Son </em>  four different times, and every time they did they shouted it to every system around. If that beacon had a single name, it would've been enough. If they had that, and someone didn't destroy a piece of paper on the  <em> Carmen </em> with all our ship's names written down, that could've helped them piece it together."</p><p> </p><p>"<em> Again, we don't have confirmation. And this could change our whole negotiating approach. Do we approach them as pirates or as a government </em>?"</p><p> </p><p>"There's more sir," Moreno said and cringed inwardly. "Captain, would you excuse us for a minute? Please, I promise it'll only be a few minutes."</p><p> </p><p>Mrowka looked at her, and for a moment there was betrayed disbelief on her face. "Aye, ma'am." She hissed, and immediately left the briefing room.</p><p> </p><p>Pearce watched her go, and looked at Moreno when the door shut, "<em> Well, Admiral? </em>"</p><p> </p><p>Moreno leaned against the table. This was a nightmare. "Sir...there's something my strategic analysts suggested. There might be another reason they want us. It's not just because we're all that's left of the Confederacy, or rather, not because we're an old enemy. It's highly classified though, only two of my analysts were even qualified to know about it."</p><p> </p><p>"<em> I inherited what was left of the black project notes from my predecessor when I took office, Admiral. I will probably know what you're talking about. </em>"</p><p> </p><p>Moreno sighed. For a hot second, she thought she was going to burst into tears. She didn't believe any of the thoughts she was having were even in her mind. "Sir, they think they want the Displacement Engine."</p><p> </p><p>Pearce shifted, "<em> Oh </em> . <em>  And we're their last source </em>."</p><p> </p><p>"Yes sir. And there's something else. I wouldn't do it for a million dollars, but I have to bring it to you. Like it or not, I can't make all the decisions for the fleet." She looked up at him, "I can't forget my duty as an officer again, not even for a minute. So even though I disagree, I have to bring it to you."</p><p> </p><p>"<em> Don't keep me in suspense, Admiral </em>," Pearce said in a low rumbling voice, like a tank engine turning over.</p><p> </p><p>"Sir, we don't know how far away the royals are. We don't know if we can get away in time even if we started today. The analysts compiled a worst-case scenario proposal. The proposal is that…" she swallowed, took a swig of water from the container on the table, and wished it was alcohol, "since the Compact is willing to talk, we have something they want, these aren't the same Commies we fought, even though they're the same government…” she trailed off for a moment, “Sir, the proposal, a final last-ditch option, was to consider surrender. In exchange for our lives, and perhaps a planet, we turn over all our AI research data and Displacement Engine technology."</p><p> </p><p>Pearce was silent. Moreno felt like she was going to puke.</p><p> </p><p>"<em> I will fight no more forever… </em>" Pearce finally murmured.</p><p> </p><p>Moreno nodded glumly, "I didn't know you were familiar with that history, sir. But we're in similar straits. We've got one warship that can fight offensively, too many people to move, and our backs are against the wall. There's gotta be a way out of here, and personally, I'm planning on dying on my feet doing something noble. But this was something I had to bring to your attention." She wanted to jump out of an airlock.</p><p> </p><p>“<em> I understand, Admiral. I know how hard this must have been for you. </em>”</p><p> </p><p>Moreno nodded again. Why did it have to be <em> her </em>? “Thank you, sir.” She looked to the side, and considered something else, “The political clout this may get us may be the only way to save the lives of the Shade Flotilla. Since it’s not just us we’re talking about here. There are several million other people who could die if we don’t do anything. The proposal could be extended to include them. Those aren’t just soldiers and pirates out there, their families are scattered around these star systems.”</p><p> </p><p>“<em> Hm. What about the worlds they’re protecting? </em>”</p><p> </p><p>Moreno avoided eye contact, “They’re not in any more danger than they would be otherwise.”</p><p> </p><p>“<em> So they’re going to assume standard procedure? I’ll guess it would be worse than usual for accepting Shade assistance. </em>”</p><p> </p><p>Moreno nodded yet again, “We might...no, never mind, they won’t stand down. We might be able to persuade the Shades, but I doubt we’ll be able to persuade these people.” They didn’t know much about these worlds, but as none of them had yet to unite under a single organization beyond something akin to the United Nations, she had no doubt they wouldn’t stand down.</p><p> </p><p>“<em> Even the Principality is still interested in our weapons, </em> ” Pearce mused, “ <em> So we give up the greatest technologies ever devised by humankind, in exchange for a bit of safety for us and a few million people. A few million allies, but millions more than us nonetheless. </em>”</p><p> </p><p>Moreno drained the rest of the jug of water. "We give up the best weapon we've had and give them a WMD. We save a few million at the price of billions of alien lives further down the line. Either we save our own asses for the moment and sacrifice god knows how many other people. And I hope you like steaks because, within a generation, our people won't be any better off than Rally. Hell, they might even give us amnesia pills and just dump the rest of us among the Rally population as mental patients."</p><p> </p><p>Pearce nodded grimly, then shook his head, "<em> We can't do this. We can't sacrifice  </em> trillions <em>  of lives to buy ourselves a few days. They'll use our weapons to atomize anyone else who fights back. </em>"</p><p> </p><p>"And they'll probably <em> thank us  </em>for it," Moreno growled.</p><p> </p><p>Pearce put his hands together in front of his face, his eyes unfocused and off to the side. She realized he was looking at a framed photo. He noticed her gaze, "<em> I don't believe you've ever met my daughter, have you? Hafsa. She's about fourteen. </em> " He chuckled,  <em> "She can be such a pain in the ass. She's rebellious, she can be rude as hell, and sometimes she makes me want to scream. She’s been better since we left home, but she's still a teenager, and she gripes sometimes. But that's just how kids are sometimes. And I love her to death. </em>"</p><p> </p><p>Pearce's smile faded. "<em> I remember a cult they picked up on the outer colonies when I was a kid. I watched a documentary on it. They implanted kids with electric shock devices the parents could activate every time they did something they didn't like. It gave me nightmares, and I swore I'd never let anything happen to anyone I knew. Especially kids. And that was before that cult wanted to start their own government and tried to suicide bomb parts of the colony. </em>"</p><p> </p><p>"I remember learning about that at the academy. We hadn't seen anything like that in centuries. It was humiliating for the colonial administration they would let that happen. We had people who set up their own messed up utopias before, but that entire situation…"</p><p> </p><p> Pearce looked at her with fire in his eyes, "<em> Those people were punished to the full extent of the law, and the Compact is doing the same thing, only worse. This is a 20th-century nightmare. I thought we left those behind. The Compact would be an argument for bringing back the death penalty if they were human </em>," such a statement was like wanting the guillotine back the concept was so ancient. No one would ever seriously consider it.</p><p> </p><p>Pearce hissed with intense fury, "<em> Admiral, we can never trust the Compact again. They have lost the right to trust when they burned Earth to the ground. If we do this, we will all end up dead one way or another. We are going to get to the Principality no matter what. We're not submitting to them. We're not going to be their slaves. We've seen what life is like under them, and I'm not going to let them put a single chip in my daughter's head. You tell Lassie out there who we are. We're the United Earth Confederacy, we don't bow to any tyrants, that's what we were founded on. You can tell him we're willing to be reasonable. If they give us back Rally and all our territory, they can have the damn engine. But since that's not going to happen, you're going to tell them to go to hell. Tell them we're not going to stop. Do they want the Displacement Engine? We're not even going to tell them we have it. We're taking that secret to our graves if we have to. We're not going to stop, not until we've won. And if we go down, then by god we're going to save trillions of people doing it. We're not going to let them get our weapons. We're not going to let them hurt anyone else. You tell them… </em> " he chuckled, " <em> You tell him, 'we haven't the proper facilities to take you all prisoner, sorry'. </em>"</p><p> </p><p>Moreno knew at that moment that it was the right decision. She knew that there was no more gulf between them. All her energy seemed to return for the moment. She straightened and saluted with a grin, "Yes sir. For the green hills of Earth."</p><p> </p><p>"<em> For the green hills of Earth. Good luck, Admiral. </em>"</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>
  <strong> XXXXX </strong>
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>Captain Mrowka turned a corner and checked her PDA. She turned around once, turned around again, then turned left. “What the hell is with the gyms on this deck? Freakin’ leathernecks…” She was in jarhead territory aboard the <em> Vanguard </em> . No matter how well she knew the ship, part of the Marine decks were connected with storage bays, and one corridor led through the motor pool. And the Marines frequently rearranged things, which, while technically according to regulation, were not always announced or clarified. So the paths through both the motor pool and the storage bays could be quite challenging. She swore they did it just to irritate the sailors.  <em> That tank broke down in the worst possible place! </em></p><p> </p><p>She tolerated friendly rivalries, but this had gotten ridiculous. And she was the captain. On her way down here she’d had to clear up the congestion and straight up told them to stop bugging each other. The amount of time it took even with her presence for them to drag the tank out of the way confirmed it was a joke, though not intended for her. But even without that, even on her own starship, it was possible to get a bit turned around. It <em> was </em> one of the largest ships ever built by human hands, after all. “Where the hell is that gym?”</p><p> </p><p>The captain passed more Marines and sailors and saluted them along the way. Through a door, she caught a glimpse of the motor pool. <em> Damn it, I got turned around again. </em>  She walked through the door along a catwalk that overlooked part of the facility. Battleships weren’t infantry transports, but they were capable of carrying two Marine regiments with a full crew. At the moment, they carried almost three. Around her, there were trucks, jeeps, and hovercraft stacked around in a 3-D arrangement, using artificial gravity to store them at angles they couldn’t use on a terrestrial warship. This meant that several dozen people were walking on the ceiling relative to her, amongst rows and rows of bunks. They carried a fraction of the already-limited number of vehicles they usually did to cram in more people and scrapped the rest for desperately-needed materials. It wasn’t like the armored vehicles were of much use anymore anyway. An even larger proportion of their atmospheric air support had been fed to the ship’s fabricator too. But even with all that room, they were still short on billets. She could see soldiers sleeping on the roof of a truck above her. Others slept in the same position on another truck on her same level, more inside the truck and even more soldiers were sleeping  <em> under </em> the same vehicle. There were supplies stacked along the catwalk she walked along, covered in tarps.</p><p> </p><p>“Ow! Watch it!” a voice snapped. Mrowka looked down, jumped back in surprise, and took her boot off a poor trooper’s hand as they glared up, “Way of travel, squid!” the captain realized even <em> more </em>  personnel slept amongst the crates, with gear stacked around and on top of them. This soldier had had their arm hanging down onto the catwalk. The trooper’s body shifted out of a collection of soft containers and boxes like a chameleon, and they pulled a blanket back from their head, “People are trying to  <em> sleep </em> here--!”</p><p> </p><p>“Sorry, Private, I didn’t see you there,” Mrowka said firmly.</p><p> </p><p>The soldier’s sleepy eyes went wide, and they tried to get out from under their camouflage of supplies to salute, “Captain! Sorry, I--”</p><p> </p><p>“At ease, I didn’t see you there. I think if you move you’re going to cause an earthquake.” She spoke in a low voice, with an eye to blankets that moved on their own up and down the catwalk around them.</p><p> </p><p>The soldier -- Marine or Army, she couldn’t tell -- sighed and fell back on their bed of crates. “Thank you, ma’am.”</p><p> </p><p>“Wait a second. Do you remember where gym nine is? I’m trying to find Colonel Holland.”</p><p> </p><p>The soldier sat up again, and glanced around, “Uh...back that way, take a right, go left, and find one of the barracks. One of them can tell you where to go from there. Sorry I can’t tell you more.”</p><p> </p><p>“Oh, you’re one of our strays?” Mrowka asked.</p><p> </p><p>“Yeah-- yes, ma'am. 212th Marine Battalion. My biggest ship was a cruiser, so I can’t be of much help. Was there anything else, ma’am?”</p><p> </p><p>“No, thank you. Sweet dreams, Marine.”</p><p> </p><p>The Marine gratefully collapsed, pulled their blanket, then their helmet over their face. Mrowka frowned. The catwalk looked like old photos of WWI trenches. She looked around at the blankets and realized the “tarps” were being used to supplement the former. A starship could be warm, but further out from the local sun, and with modern coolant systems, room temperature was easier to maintain than earlier generations of spacecraft. Blankets were necessary, and they didn’t have enough. The military had given every spare blanket, sleeping bag, and tarp they had to the civilians, and they were starting to run low. Mrowka noted a snoozing Army trooper drooling over a helmet placed under her head, with a winter jacket pulled over her. Not only did they not have enough of one kind of supplies, but they also had nowhere to store other kinds.</p><p> </p><p>Mrowka sighed and walked back toward the barracks. The corridors weren’t as packed with personnel or supplies, as they needed the room to move in. It also made the captain a little less upset. Most of these troops were stuffed aboard her ship to make room on the civilian ships for them. At least the infantry was used to cramped conditions, civilians weren’t. She made it to the barracks the 212th Marine referred to, and another trooper quickly directed her to the right place. As she walked down the corridor to the gym, another Marine rounded the corner, “Whoa, hey, I wouldn’t go in-- Oh, Captain!”</p><p> </p><p>Mrowka returned the salute, “Private. Why wouldn’t I want to go down there?”</p><p> </p><p>“Sorry, ma’am. I don’t think it’s a problem for <em> you </em>, I just…” the Marine cringed a bit, “...The colonel’s in a bad mood.” </p><p> </p><p><em> She’s been like that a lot more often lately, and  </em> I’m  <em> saying that… </em> “Duly noted. Carry on, Private.” Mrowka walked around the corner to the gym. It had a large vacant space, and an area with weight machines, punching bags, and the like. It was one of several aboard the starship and designed for more personnel than the large angry woman inside. Mrowka opened the door and closed it. The colonel was in fatigues with a tank top as to be expected, lifting many weights, and with how much she sweat, she’d been at it for a while. “Colonel?”</p><p> </p><p>“Captain,” Holland grunted, “How ya doing?”</p><p> </p><p>“I’m good. You?”</p><p> </p><p>“I’m -- erf! -- Fine.” Holland winced, and put down the weights. She walked over to a punching bag, and set it up. She struck it a few times.</p><p> </p><p>Mrowka forgot sometimes how large the Marine was even in light clothing. Spacers were used to living in different gravity, but the Marine physique was built for <em> combat  </em> in different gravities, to push their bodies far beyond their limits to find and eliminate the enemy.  <em> Not to mention where she grew up…  </em>“Colonel? Are you alright?”</p><p> </p><p>"I meant to go get hammered. But then I remembered I couldn't do that. So I figured I'd…" she grunted and hit the bag, "...Do this."</p><p> </p><p>Mrowka walked over to a space behind the punching bag, in Holland’s field of vision, “Bad day?”</p><p> </p><p>“Bad day.”</p><p> </p><p>“Helluva bad day?”</p><p> </p><p>“Helluva <em> life </em>,” Holland grunted. She darted her eyes toward Mrowka as she spoke before she hit the bag again.</p><p> </p><p>“...Want to talk about it?” Mrowka asked with a frown.</p><p> </p><p>“Is there a reason you came down here, Captain?”</p><p> </p><p>“Well, I need to talk about security arrangements for the diplomatic mission--”</p><p> </p><p>There was a ripping sound as Holland’s fist crashed through a part of the punching bag. She sighed and grabbed a roll of duct tape on a shelf nearby. She put a piece over a hole that had been repaired repeatedly. </p><p> </p><p>Mrowka tilted her head to one side, “...and your use of exercise materials apparently. Are you sure you’re alright?”</p><p> </p><p>Holland resumed punching the bag, her gaze straight ahead, “The admiral’s going on a suicide mission, my job is a joke, one of the freighters have us stranded here, another freighter doomed us all, we might all die soon, and we can’t eat any more of the good chips until we make planetfall. So...No.”</p><p> </p><p>"What do you mean your job's useless?"</p><p> </p><p>Holland’s gaze narrowed as she glanced at the captain, "We've fed most of our gear into the wood chipper, we're not likely to have a boarding action or a ground assault anytime soon, and if we get caught, we're going to be shot to pieces unable to do a thing. Hell, we’re throwing the <em> wood chipper </em> into the wood chipper so we can make better wood chippers."</p><p> </p><p>Mrowka nodded, "I see what you mean. But even Marines always have something to do even aboard ship."</p><p> </p><p>"Not me," Holland snapped, “I haven’t had <em> anything </em>  to do for  <em> months </em>! Even my grunts have battle stations, but I don’t. I’ve just been sitting here eating the last potato chips in the universe.”</p><p> </p><p>“I would think Rally would have them--”</p><p> </p><p>Holland stopped mid-swing and pointed a finger at Mrowka, “You know they don’t have the right kind! You know they don’t have barbecue chips. God, they probably destroyed them cuz it was bad for their ideology or something…” she punched the bag again, "I'm completely useless here, Captain. All my gear is useless. Can we just space the motor pool already?!"</p><p> </p><p>"What?!" Mrowka demanded.</p><p> </p><p>Holland growled in frustration and rolled her eyes, "I didn't mean the people in it, I meant the gear! It's useless!" She hit the punching bag quite hard. She glared at Mrowka, "But that doesn't matter, cuz the admiral wants to negotiate with the goddamn <em> Commies </em>! In my professional opinion, this is incredibly irresponsible! My job is to keep you people safe and she…" she punched the bag, "Just…" she struck it again, "Won't…" a third time, "...Listen!"</p><p> </p><p>"Colonel, calm down--"</p><p> </p><p>Holland's fury switched to "kill" mode, "Calm down? <em> Calm down </em> ? Captain, she's trying to get herself  <em> killed </em> ! She wants to negotiate with those freaks! This is nuts even by  <em> your </em> standards!"</p><p> </p><p>Mrowka's eyes narrowed, "<em> Excuse me </em>? I don't think I heard you correctly."</p><p> </p><p>"Look, your pirate friend might be nice, but she's still a mutt, and <em> the Compact is still the Compact! </em>  I think it's highly irresponsible for you to hang out with that weirdo, but  <em> this </em>  is  <em> insane </em>!" She snarled and punched the bag again.</p><p> </p><p>"I agree with you, this is dangerous, but we don't have a choice! And what I do in my spare time is none of your business!" Mrowka snapped.</p><p> </p><p>Holland rolled her eyes again and huffed, "It's my only job, Mrowka! All I have left is protecting you people, and you go ahead and put yourself in the spitting distance of goddamn <em> dogs </em>!"</p><p> </p><p>"The Shades are our allies, and while I don't trust them, Kaitet is--"</p><p> </p><p>"She's a <em> mutt </em> ,  <em> Captain </em>," Holland growled, "They destroyed everything we ever loved, and the only reason they decided to help us is that they're that desperate!"</p><p> </p><p>"And we only came to them for the same reason!” Mrowka snapped, gesturing at the bulkhead, “I'm not fraternizing with the enemy here, because she's not wearing their uniform! She's <em> never  </em> worn their uniform! I trust Nanhar as far as I can throw him, and it's no skin off my back if he dies, but Kaitet's at least  <em> trying </em>!"</p><p> </p><p>“It’s not <em> about </em> fraternizing with the enemy!” Holland snarled, again avoiding eye contact.</p><p> </p><p>“Then what <em> is </em> it about?”</p><p> </p><p>Holland pointed in the same direction, "Those are the same puppies who blew my friends apart! Beutel is only alive through sheer luck! And I'm not sure he's going to make it!"</p><p> </p><p>Mrowka rubbed her brow, "Pavesi said he should make it, Colonel, and they blew up plenty of my friends too! I hope you like steaks because blowing up now isn't going to help anything! You can't do this in front of your staff!"</p><p> </p><p>"Why do you think I'm in here?" Holland grunted, grabbed her head in annoyance, and asked randomly, " 'I hope you like steaks', Jesus, where does that even come from?"</p><p> </p><p>"Huh? Oh, I know this... It's from the sub-light crawlers. One of them had a cryo failure, but the livestock cryo pods were compatible, so they had to take a bunch of cattle out of stasis and put the crew in their pods instead. They had to do something with the cows, so they ate them, but saving the crew meant sacrificing the livestock, and it could hurt them further down the line. So it was good to have fresh food for a few months, but it could've seriously hampered the colony's development. They went vegetarian for a while. Hence 'I hope you like steaks'."</p><p> </p><p>Holland groaned, "Damn it…"</p><p> </p><p>"What?"</p><p> </p><p>"The Commies probably erased that from Rally too." Holland opened and closed her hands, "Damn them." She scowled, "They called us <em> primitive </em>. You know they tell Rally kids we couldn't even climb out of the gravity well? They said we ruined our world through environmental damage!"</p><p> </p><p>Holland hit the punching bag with a roar of frustration, "Damn them all to hell! We built Aeneas for crying out loud!” She scrunched up her face, and rubbed her forehead, "Goddamn it, Aeneas…"</p><p> </p><p>Realization struck. Mrowka glanced around and picked up a water bottle on the floor next to a weight. She passed it over.</p><p> </p><p>Holland drank from it and gasped, "They destroyed Aeneas."</p><p> </p><p>Mrowka nodded, "I know. We all lost things."</p><p> </p><p>“No, you don't get it, Milena!" Holland snapped as she pointed at her, "They <em> may  </em> have smashed Phobos and Deimos, but they  <em> definitely </em>  destroyed Aeneas! Can't let those damned humans have  <em> anything </em>!"</p><p> </p><p>She cursed, "It's not the same as it is for you, Milena! Mars was safe, Mars was easy to make! Do you know how hard we worked to build Venus? We had to throw comets at it! We had to build Aeneas! It was a solar array so big we had to <em> name </em> it! You used mirrors and comets too, but ours…” she gestured off into the distance, “Venus needed so much more work! It was so hot we had to cool the damn thing off! we had to remove carbon monoxide, we had to make things corrosion-proof, we had to add oxygen...It was the road test for every other major terraforming technique we have!"</p><p> </p><p>"I know, Phi!" Mrowka snapped, "I know! And it's all gone now! You have to pull yourself together!"</p><p> </p><p>Holland swung a fist back at the punching bag to punctuate each word, "I...<em> am </em> ... pulling...myself...  <em> together! </em>"</p><p> </p><p>Mrowka rubbed her face, "Phi--"</p><p> </p><p>Holland turned to her and pointed at the bulkhead, "They destroyed everything! Everything we built, goddamn it! After everything we did and they went and shattered Aeneas! They broke <em> our moon </em>, Milena!"</p><p> </p><p>Mrowka sighed quietly and looked away. Her face contorted. Her hands were limp at her sides.</p><p> </p><p>Holland turned back to the punching bag, and her voice lightened from fury to sorrow, "Didn't you ever see it, Milena? The sunshade, the mirrors, the soletta, the whole array...damn it, we <em> built  </em>that.”</p><p>Her eyes burned with anger, and her voice dropped again, “It didn’t have short enough days, so by god we <em> made it </em>  have twenty-four hour days! Three-point-eight times ten to the seventh power meters distant, with a twenty-four-hour orbit for an exactly twenty-four-hour day!” She recited the fun fact learned in a long-vanished kindergarten class perfectly, as one would recite the alphabet, with a strike for each number. She took a deep breath, “ <em> Aeneas: he stands between us and the sun, our little dome huddled under his wings </em>…"</p><p> </p><p>The ancient poem composed by the first human colonists to land on Venus rang through the gym. Holland cursed, "’ Low grasp of engineering’ my ass, we conquered Venus! They say we're shit at engineering, that we can't do anything right!” Her knuckles were white, vibrations visible in her limbs from sheer and utter fury. A vein throbbed in her neck with every inhale through her gritted teeth. “After everything we did! We conquered Venus, and they just go and ruin everything! You've seen the way they look at us! Even the prisoners mock us! We're a joke to them! After everything, we fought for! We're not their toys! They're a bunch of thugs and...and...<em> bullies </em>, and--"</p><p> </p><p>She walloped the bag with each noun, and when she made to swing again, Mrowka saw with alarm a shade of crimson in Holland's fist. She stepped forward and grabbed the colonel’s arm, "Hey, <em> hey! </em>"</p><p> </p><p>"Goddamn it, <em> what-- </em>? Oh…" Holland relaxed, threw off the smaller woman's arm, and walked to a first aid kit on the wall. When she pulled it open, the contents spilled across the floor. She growled in frustration and snatched up a spray meant for minor cuts.</p><p> </p><p>She tried to flick off the safety trigger, only for it to stick. The Marine hit it a bit in frustration and stepped away when Mrowka moved forward to try to help. Holland finally got the spray open and sprayed it on her minor lacerations.</p><p> </p><p>Holland shoved the container back into the medkit and slapped it closed. It didn't quite catch, and she slammed it shut repeatedly. When it finally closed, there was a bit of gauze still sticking out. Holland snarled incoherently, then sat down heavily on the bench nearby. "Goddamn it, I can't <em> do  </em>this anymore!"</p><p> </p><p>"Colonel--" Mrowka started, and half-heartedly raised a hand.</p><p> </p><p>Holland buried her face in her hands, "I can't do this anymore! This was the last thing the corps told me to do, and I can't even do it right!"</p><p> </p><p>Mrowka scratched her head and sat down beside the Colonel. “You’re not doing it wrong, Colonel. There’s no book on this.”</p><p> </p><p>Holland rubbed her face, "The one job the corps gives me, the last order from them…" She sighed, "I can't do this anymore."</p><p> </p><p>Mrowka patted her on the shoulder, "I know…" Her hand stopped. <em> I know. </em></p><p> </p><p>Holland growled at herself, and took a deep breath, "I'm sorry Milena, it's just…" She glanced back at Mrowka, "I've been stuck in this tin can with nothing to do for a year. Give or take a few thousand."</p><p> </p><p>She sighed, "We're running in circles, and the troops and I are just passengers. We can't do <em> anything </em>! At least your people have something to do. Even my grunts have something to do. Do you know what it's like just sitting there with absolutely nothing to do every time GQ sounds? And with everything in your lockers obsolete? Look, your guns might be from the depot, but we didn't get anything. Nothing we could easily adapt for our guys, anyway." Holland sighed again, "I just feel worse than useless. And it feels like the admiral's making it worse."</p><p> </p><p>"Yeah, that's admiralty for you," Mrowka muttered. She glanced at her friend. "Would spacing the contents of the motor pool help anything?"</p><p> </p><p>Holland looked back at her again. Then burst out laughing. Mrowka grinned a bit. They both laughed.</p><p> </p><p>Mrowka’s laugh trailed off. “On Mars, they had to put up special buildings to preserve the old probes and rovers. They didn’t want to disturb them, but they were so old, the atmosphere composition and environment had changed so much, and there were so many colonists that they were actually worried they’d be damaged somehow. Y’know Oppy-- <em> Opportunity </em>  was still in its final resting place. They had to move  <em> Pathfinder </em>  and  <em> Viking One  </em>though. They might’ve gotten washed away.” She leaned her shoulders back, “We’d changed it so much that we could do more damage than decades of windstorms could.”</p><p> </p><p>Holland nodded, “I saw <em> Vega One </em> in Maat Mons City. Soviets built those things to last.” She sighed, “I don’t think it’s a good idea to confirm who we are. We don’t know if they really know who we are.”</p><p> </p><p>Mrowka nodded, then shook her head, “The diplomats have been thinking about that. We've got two plans. It all depends on their opening statements. We're either going to keep going as pirates, or we're going to go as who we are."</p><p> </p><p>Holland glanced at her, "Huh. That doesn't sound quite as stupid then."</p><p> </p><p>"Maybe if you'd answered my emails you would've known."</p><p> </p><p>Holland facepalmed, "I was busy."</p><p> </p><p>"Killing a punching bag isn't quite a justification here, Phi."</p><p> </p><p>Holland nodded. After a long silence, she said, “I suppose we’ve got some protocols for this sort of situation. I’ll look at the manual. We can install a force field between the parties, put sentries up, and that t...that critter <em> can’t </em> wear his uniform. We don’t know what kind of micro explosives or other surprises they’ve come up with that can be sewn into the fabric. I don’t care how ‘honest’ this asshole is, they could put something in there even their people don’t know about. Maybe the Triarchs think bomb collars are quaint.”</p><p> </p><p>Mrowka nodded, “From this point on when we negotiate with them, we’re taking full security precautions. Pirates are one thing, but you don’t trust the enemy.”</p><p> </p><p>Holland looked off into the distance straight ahead, “I hope you realize that this is one dumb fucking plan.”</p><p> </p><p>Mrowka looked at the same thing, “Yep.”</p><p> </p><p>“We’re all probably going to die.”</p><p> </p><p>“Yep.” Mrowka had her hands clasped in front of her, “But stupid’s all we’ve got right now. Plan B through Z all begin with some variation on ‘endanger the freighter’ or ‘abandon the freighter’.”</p><p> </p><p>Holland growled in annoyance, then sighed, “Yeah. Fuck, I hate this, but what the hell else are we going to do?”</p><p> </p><p>“<em> Vanguard’s </em> the only thing that can hope to put a dent in them when they’re running. And they may not like it if the admiral’s not aboard to talk to them. No matter what, three of our most valuable assets are going to be at risk here.” Mrowka spoke very calmly and matter-of-factly as if she were dictating a document.</p><p> </p><p>“Well, even if we get wiped out, at least the rest of the fleet will have a chance,” Holland murmured.</p><p> </p><p>Mrowka nodded, “Every second we buy here keeps them distracted, and gives the fleet a chance to get to the royals.”</p><p> </p><p>Holland nodded. “You know we can't trust them. You <em> know </em> that."</p><p> </p><p>Mrowka glared at her, "Of course I do, Colonel. But we also know the Shades can hold them off. The Shades might be a bunch of assholes, but they can shake off at least one attack. We’ll stall as much as we can in the diplomatic department, hold them off as long as we can, then run like hell. We know the Commies can't bring too many ships to bear. Intel says that whatever they have right now is scraped together, just like what we were fighting early in the war."</p><p> </p><p>"Yeah. Then the Kaiju Offensive hit," Holland muttered, "It's a big risk, but it's not like we've got much of a choice. And it <em> did </em> take time for them to bring their big ships in." She scratched her head, "No use bellyaching about it I guess." Holland seemed to decide something in her mind and leaned back. She bumped Mrowka's shoulder with the flat of her fist, and grinned, "Hey, if Sabre Point could hold them off, even this ragtag bunch can hold off that raggedy-ass fleet."</p><p> </p><p>Mrowka grinned back, “That’s the spirit, Colonel.”</p><p> </p><p>They laughed a little. Holland glanced at her, “So how was the second dinner with a Tribune?”</p><p> </p><p>“Breakfast. I think she was surprised I didn’t keel over from that coffee.” Mrowka chuckled, “They really underestimate our tolerance of...whatever the hell that stuff is.”</p><p> </p><p>“One of my captains passed out after drinking that stuff.” Holland snorted, “She’s a bit of a lightweight. But seriously, go easy on that stuff.”</p><p> </p><p>“I can quit anytime I want,” Mrowka said with a small smile.</p><p> </p><p>Holland pointed a finger at her, “If you crash on this stuff, I am <em> not </em> babysitting you. I will call a medical team if I have to, that’s it.”</p><p> </p><p>Mrowka chuckled. Her laughter trailed off, and she furrowed her brow at the Marine, “I thought you would’ve been a bit more pissed. Rivera said I’d have to have security from my security when word got to you. I mean, I <em> did </em> get your voicemail, and I heard some rumors about a broken table...?”</p><p> </p><p>“That was an accident!” Holland snapped out in jest, then her positivity faded as well, and she looked off into the distance. She glanced at Mrowka. “At this point, I don’t think it matters. You can hang around with whoever you want with whatever time we’ve got left. That’s what we’re fighting for isn’t it?”</p><p> </p><p>Mrowka nodded, and smiled, “Yeah, that’s what we’re fighting for. To have coffee with whoever the hell we want.”</p><p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Navigator Moira Boyle's comments does not reflect the official stances of the United Earth Confederacy. </p><p>https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=N_ESgHRI5HI</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0018"><h2>18. Men of Harlech</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>"Well, they've got a very good bass section, mind, but no top tenors that's for sure."</p><p>- Zulu (1964)</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The sixty-odd remaining Broken fumed in the cargo hold as their twenty-odd compatriots were led away. They weren’t in chains, as some of the more regressive officers suggested. They were irrational, not monsters. Even if their chieftain <em> had </em> punched the column leader prime.</p><p> </p><p>An exchange was better than spacing them.</p><p> </p><p>Tribune Advocate Xavoin adjusted her helmet as she monitored the transfer. She’d heard about their chief’s attack. She checked her PPG and was prepared for anything. The advocate who’d been guarding that little bitch told her all about it. They looked so frail, you wouldn’t think them a threat. Xavoin glared around at the creatures. Big ones. Little ones. Scum. They were Broken. Civilians, pirates, “soldiers”, for what that mattered with Broken. Pirates were just as good as the “soldiers” these apes made.</p><p> </p><p>A child wept as one of their parents waved from the departing crowd, on the verge of tears themselves. It made Xavoin sick to her liver. Couldn’t they have some dignity? <em> Get ahold of yourselves and stop that. </em> The advocate found herself turning away. This was a miserable assignment. ... <em> Please. </em></p><p> </p><p>Xavoin checked her rifle again. <em> Little monsters. They’re all little monsters. </em></p><p>Suddenly, she felt something watching her. She looked up to see one of the human elders in the crowd glaring at her. She glared back. The Broken looked at the departing crowd. He looked back at the advocate. Then he stood up and elbowed one of the others. He cleared his throat and called out something in their barbaric language.</p><p> </p><p>The crowd halted, and before any of the Compact Janissaries could say anything, one of the Broken beside the elder started humming. And then she uttered a deep sound, that became loud and smooth melodic sounds of the human's barbaric sounds. Xavoin switched on her translation software.</p><p> </p><p>"...<b> <em>Harlech stop your dreaming, can't you see their spear points gleaming? See their warriors pennants streaming to this battlefield</em> </b>!"</p><p> </p><p>"Sing! Come on, sing!" The elder shouted.</p><p> </p><p>One by one the others joined in.  “<b> <em>Men of Harlech stand ye steady, it cannot be ever said ye for the battle were not ready, stand and never yield</em> </b> <em> ! </em>”</p><p> </p><p>Xavoin looked on in astonishment. This wasn’t just anger, or grief, this wasn’t a random display, this was a <em> protest </em>. “Keep singing!” the elder cried.</p><p> </p><p>“<b> <em>From the hills rebounding, let this war cry sounding, summon all at Cambria's call, the mighty force surrounding…</em> </b>”</p><p> </p><p>Xavoin flicked the safety off her rifle, “Keep those apes moving! Get them out of here!”</p><p> </p><p>“<b> <em>Men of Harlech onto glory, this shall ever be your story</em> </b>…”</p><p> </p><p>The crowd moved slowly out the hatch, singing themselves weakly. The rest of the crew sang louder, as if their words themselves could protect them.“<b> <em>Keep these fighting words before ye, Cambria will not yield</em> </b>!”</p><p> </p><p>“Get them to shut up!” Xavoin snapped over her comms, and stepped forward with her rifle raised.</p><p> </p><p>“<b> <em>Men of Harlech, stop your dreaming, can’t you see their spear points gleaming? See their warrior pennants streaming to this battlefield!</em> </b>”</p><p> </p><p>Xavoin wanted to fire into the air, to get these stupid little apes to shut up. She flicked the safety on and off. She went to the side of the compartment and beat her rifle butt against the bulkhead, “<em> Shut up! Shut up! Shut up! Stop that gods-damned noise and </em> shut up <em> ! Shut up or I’ll vent this whole damn compartment! </em>”</p><p> </p><p>The singing seemed to quiet, and she raised her rifle, “Don’t think I won’t do it! Don’t think that I won’t! Just <em> shut the hell up! </em>”</p><p> </p><p>The voices fell to a trickle. Then the old one broke out of the crowd, and shook his fist at the advocate, “Keep singing! <b> <em>Men of Harlech, stand ye ready</em> </b>--”</p><p> </p><p>The advocate saw red, and charged forward about five meters before her subordinates could grab her.</p><p> </p><p>“Advocate, calm down! They’re not worth it!” One of her subordinates cried, pulling Xavoin back.</p><p>
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</p><p>Sharif saw this whole display on a video recording in his quarters. They dragged the advocate back to one of the hold doors, and the feed cut. Sharif slumped back in his seat. He was shocked and dismayed. He was <em> horrified </em>. It couldn’t be. Such violent language in those songs, such defiance, almost as if they…</p><p> </p><p><em> Weren’t Broken </em> . Quickly Sharif went to his wartime database, praying it wasn’t true. He found a video clip from the long-ago war, and one of the recordings they didn’t generally show. A group of peaceful rioters in one city or another, in one of those vicious cities. They were a motley group of civilians, in various outfits, all shapes and sizes, standing or in wheelchairs, adults and children. They weren’t very threatening, but looks were obviously deceiving. They didn’t hold weapons, they held much deadlier and frightening weapons than simple firearms, clubs, riot shields, and gas. The writing on their signs, the language in their voices, and the obsolete infectious <em> culture </em> in their minds.</p><p> </p><p>And they sang. “<b> <em>Allons enfants de la Patrie Le jour de gloire est arrivé! Contre nous de la tyrannie, l'étendard sanglant est levé, l'étendard sanglant est levé, Entendez-vous dans les campagnes, mugir ces féroces soldats? Ils viennent jusque dans vos bras, égorger vos fils, vos compagnes!</em> </b>”</p><p> </p><p>There were tears in their eyes as they sang, vicious anger, vile pride, and insidious courage. They could move even a Space Force officer’s heart to tears, but he knew it was a vicious lie. As much as they thought they were correct, they were wrong. He scowled in disgust at the lyrics as they were translated under the screen. “<em> Come children of the Fatherland, the day of glory has arrived! Against us tyranny’s bloody standard is raised, the bloody standard is raised. Do you hear in the countryside, the roar of these fierce soldiers? They come right to our arms to slaughter our sons, our friends </em>!”</p><p> </p><p>“<b> <em>Aux armes, citoyens Formez vos bataillons Marchons, marchons! Qu'un sang impur Abreuve nos sillons!</em> </b>”</p><p> </p><p>"<em> To arms, citizens, form your battalions, march, let's march! May impure blood water our furrows! </em>”</p><p> </p><p>Sharif shuddered. Such violent language. The humans in the video weren’t Broken, these were the vicious ancient humans. Such violent language, such defiance, such anger! Such <em> pride </em>. Such vain and arrogant pride.</p><p> </p><p>He clicked to another recording. From a world conquered years into the campaign, with a completely different language. “<b> <em>Solang ein Tropfen Blut noch glüht, noch eine Faust den Degen zieht, und noch ein Arm die Büchse spannt, betritt kein Feind hier deinen Strand!</em> </b>”</p><p> </p><p>“<em> While still remains one breath of life, While still one fist can draw a knife, One gun still fired with one hand, No foe will stand on this Rhine sand. </em>” The defiance was maddening. Disgusting. They resisted so viciously, so disturbingly.</p><p> </p><p>"<b> <em>Yo Way Yo, Home Va-Ray, Yo Ay-Rah, Jerhume Brunnen-G</em> </b>…" the computer didn't seem to be able to translate that one. It was from a small moon-based human settlement that had fought like mad. In the end it had been virtually annihilated only five years into the war. They’d hoped it had been an isolated incident, but it was only the foreshadow of things to come.</p><p> </p><p>Sharif found a video feed of a desert world, with protesters who withstood the heat of the sun. “<b> <em>Shai Hulud, send me a great one, send me the courage to ride it well! Shai Hulud, send me a way to change the nightmare that Spice foretells! Shai Hulud, send me a new way and vengeance for those who died…</em> </b>”</p><p> </p><p>Another world. “<b> <em>Dōngfāng hóng, tàiyáng shēng, Zhōngguó chū liǎo ge Máo Zédōng, Tā wèi rénmín móu xìngfú, Hū'ěr-hāi-yō, tā shì rénmín dà jiùxīng!</em> </b>”</p><p> </p><p>Sharif kept flicking from world to world. Dozens of languages, from English, to Navajo, to Spanish, to Arabic, Gujarati, Hebrew, Zambia, Nguni, Telugu, Urdu. So many different songs, so many different languages and cultures. It was like they were boasting. So much diversity, so much divisiveness. They were boasting of diversity, of <em> divisiveness </em>. How could they take pride in that? Especially in the divisiveness of their obsolete cultures? The Compact prided itself on diversity, but uniqueness came from the distinct traits each species had, not some primitive notions of inexplicable tribal violence. It still boggled his mind. Sharif knew Client races weren’t entirely ignorant, many obsolete cultures shared similar values with the Compact. Surely they could see this was only the natural order of evolution.</p><p> </p><p>Most of the time he knew that many didn’t see because of the heavy-handed policies of people like his academy peers. The Compact couldn’t keep bombing people just because they wouldn’t conform. Retaliation was necessary in some situations, but official policies were far too hard on Client races. Sharif sighed. No matter how much pain these Broken caused, he had to fight to remember that they were people too. If edited in just the wrong manner, these videos could make the humans appear to be the victims, rather than the vicious aggressors they truly were. The way they stood like Tribunes in the old footage, as disturbing as it was, would make them start doubting the Compact’s goals, and the natural evolution of things. He knew if he saw his ancestors standing as proud as the Triarchs, he would wonder what had happened. With the right whispers in their ears, he could see exactly why they’d be afraid. For instance, if they only saw the Janissary response to the protesters, instead of the events that started it.</p><p> </p><p>And the song in the cargo bay confirmed it. He kept searching until he found one that was what he was looking for. A small world, a tiny colony on the edge of human space. “<b> <em>Men of Harlech, march to glory, Victory is hov'ring o'er ye, bright-eyed freedom stands before ye, hear ye not her call? At your sloth she seems to wonder; rend the sluggish bonds asunder, let the war-cry's deaf'ning thunder every foe appall.</em> </b>”</p><p> </p><p>“Appall” was certainly the right word. Sharif could only sit there and look at the screen. “Invaders”. “Enemy”. “Foe”. “Tyranny”. They spoke nothing of the Compact. They’d fought for a long time before they’d ever met the Compact. A great number of the songs they sang were anti-Compact, of course. He didn’t think there’d be so many. Nor did he think that <em> Broken </em> could sing those songs, sing those...those...</p><p> </p><p>He looked at the floor. Sing horrid songs like their ancestors. Sing virtually identical songs to their ancestors. Perhaps they were making up their own. That made him feel a little better. But that made the wild Broken no less sickening. They had threatened the Compact. They’d been outmatched, outgunned, outnumbered. They couldn’t win. So why did they fight? They knew they were doomed, why prolong it? They had to have known! And yet they’d fought for every inch of space. It was like all their colonies knew that every bullet spent on the occupied worlds was one less they could put toward their precious Terra. It was as if the stupid little fools--</p><p> </p><p>Sharif caught himself, and took a deep breath. He put a hand over his eyes. He had to avoid slipping into those patterns. Their ancestors had been stubborn and foolish, but it <em> had </em> taken courage to fight as they did. He had to admit that. He couldn’t lose respect for the enemy. Why hadn’t they surrendered when they knew they were outmatched? They’d never run out of courage, but didn’t they know they’d run out of time?</p><p> </p><p>Sharif got to his feet. No one knew that answer but the dead. These humans weren’t the wild variety. Some may not have been Rally-raised, but many of them were. No matter how rough the road had been, he could finally sit down and talk with the humans, and explain things. He had only a few hours before they were to depart to meet Admiral Moreno.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> It’s our duty to be kind even when they lash out. Confusion can be repaired, death cannot. </em>
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  <b>XXXXX</b>
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</p><p>A small Compact starship materialized at the outer limits of the Shadow World system. It passed through the orbits of the star’s outer planets; two rocks, one with a thin atmosphere, one without, the latter smaller than the other. It passed through Shadow VII’s sphere of influence, the blue gas giant’s massive storm storm barely visible. There was little activity among the tiny handful of detectable outposts. Most of it was demolition crews preparing to scuttle the mines, or draining what fuel they hadn’t already taken.</p><p> </p><p>The cruiser <em> Shadow of Annihilation </em> met it a short time later, and took it aboard. They had insufficient propulsion to make it to the inner worlds in a reasonable amount of time on their own. It was by the book for these situations, depending on your interpretation of the book. The cruiser passed an asteroid belt, and another rocky world with a minimal atmosphere. Its minimal shipyards would never be finished now. The crews now focused on building what defenses they could. Shadow VI normally wasn’t a choice to be settled, but it was the right size for many Compact races, had many valuable resources, and its proximity between Shadow World and the rest of the system made it a valuable stepping stone.</p><p> </p><p>The mines meant to fuel a burgeoning nation-state were now silent in Shadow V’s clouds. The gas giant’s few residents had fled to the two more developed worlds of the system. <em> Shadow of Annihilation </em> passed through the inner asteroid belt, made a burn for Shadow World, and approached the libation point opposite the station <em> Arthur C Clarke </em> was located in. Arrayed around the planet was a dizzying variety of defense platforms, former Compact military vessels, and the various collection of ships every pirate group typically assembled.</p><p> </p><p> <em> Vanguard </em> 's distinct hammerhead shape stood out next to the dock where the <em> Clarke </em> was situated, protecting it and the attached station beside the <em> Suffren </em>. Their boxy appearance stood out from the organic Shade Flotilla ships. The rest of the human fleet was nowhere to be seen.</p><p> </p><p>A steady trickle of Shade Flotilla ships fled in the direction of shift limits, desperately evacuating everyone they could. The time had come, they were prepared for this, but they still hadn’t expected it so soon. The diplomatic mission was their only hope of saving most of the population. If they could buy themselves a few days, they could get a few more people out. The humans found it odd that the Compact negotiating rules would be generous enough to allow the enemy to buy time, but Sharif could afford to be generous acting from a position of strength. This system was the lifeblood of the Shade Flotilla. The stations and settlements represented a vast sum of their assets and operating capital.</p><p> </p><p>“No matter how many Shades we save today, they’re going to be burned out as an organization. So I hope you like steaks,” Lieutenant Halverson had said.</p><p> </p><p> A Shade shuttle was taken to a small station at the L1 point, a waystation for small vessels between Shadow World, its moons, and the libation points. It served as the perfect spot for a neutral area to have negotiations. It was also the safest point where a pocket nuke couldn’t cause much damage. The Shades felt that even the Compact would respect the sanctity of negotiations; if you don’t behave during talks, people won’t want to communicate with you. But the UEC had been burned too often to leave things to chance.</p><p>
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</p><p>In the room where they were going to hold negotiations, Admiral Moreno yawned, and scratched her shoulder. She hadn’t worn her dress uniform in a long time. “I hope they gave them pants.”</p><p> </p><p>“The Shades agreed to provide some dignity,” Ambassador Mason said. He was much more comfortable in a suit.</p><p> </p><p>“Can’t exactly negotiate in underwear, now can we?” Moreno grunted.</p><p> </p><p>“You’d be surprised but don’t worry. They’re taking every precaution -- they’ve got people manually rewriting their documents so they don’t have to bring their devices -- but even so they're not this cruel.”</p><p> </p><p>Moreno gave him the side-eye, checked her watch again, and glanced around. They weren’t going to be less than totally paranoid with their security precautions. A Marine fireteam stood in the negotiating chamber behind them, two on either side. The rest of the squad were positioned outside the door. Four Shade Janissaries stood with the fireteam, and the rest of their own squad in the same place. Kaitet and Nanhar stood to the direct left of Moreno and Mason. Behind them were a handful of UEC and Shade Flotilla aides. An energy shield in front of them divided the room in half. </p><p> </p><p>Moreno scratched at her side and tugged on the restraints on the armored vest under her uniform. It was one of the new ones they’d gotten from the black market. Apparently it was ex-human Janissary armor, high-grade stuff from an officer. It supposedly auto-adjusted for comfort. She couldn’t tell if that function was broken or not. Far more likely, it was designed to fit the bare minimum of requirements. The only thing worse than Tribune armor made with little regard for comfort was armor made for humans with little regard for comfort. The difference was the designers understood Tribune physiology, not “Broken” physiology.</p><p> </p><p>“Cruel you say…” Moreno muttered, and her gaze darkened.</p><p> </p><p>Mason glanced at her, looked forward, then back, “Admiral…”</p><p> </p><p>“I’m fine.” Moreno’s gaze could pierce the force field in front of them as she glared at the opposite door.</p><p> </p><p>“Admiral, he may have requested you specifically, but--”</p><p> </p><p>“I said I’m fine,” Moreno repeated, her eyes locked on the door.</p><p> </p><p>A radio crackled, “<em> Prisoner transfer underway. </em>”</p><p> </p><p>Moreno looked at her PDA, and a link to a security camera appeared. A number of freighter crew, and the long-lost members of a salvage crew passed each other in a cargo bay. The civilians were the only people they were willing to let go. The only people they could afford to let go. They weren’t trained observers, and they’d been captured earliest, so they wouldn’t have much useful intel. They wouldn’t live a good life with the CIS pumping them for all they had, but at least they’d be alive, out of their hands, and Moreno wouldn’t have to think about spacing civilians. <em> Just the soldiers… </em></p><p> </p><p>Mason checked his own device, “Well, looks like we’re good to go. They should be bringing them in soon.”</p><p> </p><p>Moreno's expression didn't change, "Twenty. I wonder what they're going to do with the other sixty."</p><p> </p><p>"They are holding them as bargaining chips," Nanhar said beside them, "As you should know."</p><p> </p><p>Kaitet hit him in the arm with the back of her hand, then grimaced apologetically at Moreno, "Some of them are probably on their way back to Rally.”</p><p> </p><p><em> Probably to get dragged off to some mental ward-- no, an insane asylum. </em> Moreno wondered what kind of ludicrous pharmaceuticals they put in people to “cure” them. She wondered briefly what the death rate was, but she was perhaps giving them too little credit. The public wouldn’t accept <em> extremely </em> high fatalities.</p><p> </p><p>Kaitet glanced at the smaller human. They hadn't exactly been forthcoming with the details of their "treaty", or agreement, but the fact that they didn't protest the Shade Flotilla's presence in negotiations said something at least. She only wished she could've met Mrowka in person again. A pity the captain was banned from negotiations.</p><p> </p><p>“You know this isn’t going to work, right?” Nanhar asked softly.</p><p> </p><p>“Of course it won’t. It’s going to buy us time,” Kaitet muttered back, “Why do you think our documents are so big? We’re trying to buy ourselves every second we can.”</p><p> </p><p>“Oh, so <em> that’s </em> why there’s that section about parking tickets?” Nanhar genuinely asked.</p><p>
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</p><p>The door opened, and all involved parties straightened up. A handful of Tribunes entered the room in nondescript clothes drawn from Shade stores. Thankfully, they were at least relatively dignified. They still carried themselves like soldiers. Several were clearly aides of some kind. Two of them stood apart, a male and a female Tribune. The male stepped forward. They could guess who he was. He wasn’t the tallest, but he was among the taller people in the compartment. Like all Tribunes, he was built like a walking tank, but wasn’t as fit as some of the Janissaries Moreno had seen. Likely both of these points were because he was a spacer and a naval officer. </p><p> </p><p>Moreno looked up at that face. He was well-groomed, his mane well-kept, cut to Space Force regulations. His shark-like skin was healthier than the smuggler she’d seen in person, but then again the smuggler had had less access to health care. This officer's four eyes looked downward toward her past his snout. Moreno felt strange. Up until now, Moreno met with ex-Compact people. She'd met Tribunes who had never been in the military. This was no rebel, this was no pirate. This was the sort of being she'd fought so long ago. This was the sort of monster that gave her nightmares. The monsters who'd been in her dreams for a decade. The monsters who'd taken everything from her. </p><p> </p><p>He stood there like nothing had ever happened, like there was nothing unique about what was happening. What was <em> wrong </em>with him? It wasn't his species, she had to remember that. People like him weren't born monsters. They had families, they had children.</p><p> </p><p>The banality of evil.</p><p> </p><p>Mason called out, “You know who we are?”</p><p> </p><p>“Representatives of the United Earth Confederacy, of course,” Column Leader Prime Sharif said. He pronounced the name oddly. Moreno realized he was using the English phrase for it, and it came through the translator badly, “I know where you come from.”</p><p>
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</p><p>Sharif looked back at the array of smaller creatures, and the one who obviously led them. She had the same sort of flat face most humans did, and those bulging eyes. Carmody had smelled better than he’d expected, and she hadn’t had access to a shower when he’d met with her. Perhaps this Broken in front of him didn’t smell as bad as he’d been led to believe. Not that he could tell, the energy screen messed with his nose.</p><p> </p><p>The lead human was possibly the shortest one there, at a hundred-and-sixty centimeters. She wore a foreign uniform, with letters and insignia of a long-dead nation. Her hair was short, but was clearly done for practicality, not for Broken Space Force regulations. It was a mild difference, but it was there. There was no attention to detail. It didn’t look even vaguely like a Tribune mane as it should. As with Carmody though, nothing particularly unusual struck him about her. She was well-fed, well-groomed, and held herself like a soldier. As he looked at her, her face drew into a scowl and he blinked in surprise.</p><p>
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</p><p>Moreno glanced at Mason, who made a small dip of the head, and casually alt-tabbed to a different window on his device. He stepped forward and waved, “Hello and greetings, I am Ambassador Mason, representative of the United Earth Confederacy. This is Rear Admiral Nieves Moreno, senior surviving flag officer of the UEC Navy Battle Fleet. On behalf of the president and the people of the Confederacy, we are here to negotiate a cease-fire and treaty with the Compact of Species.”</p><p> </p><p>Sharif tilted his head, and gave a wave of his own, “On behalf of the Compact of Species, I greet you, and hope we can come to an agreement. I am Column Leader Prime Sharif, commander of the Kaedan Vault Garrison of the Compact of Species Space Force. We mean no harm.”</p><p> </p><p>Kaitet made a gesture of greeting, “I’m Chief Executive Privateer Kaitet Sezod Tadok, founder of the Shade Flotilla. This is Column Leader Prime Nanhar -- Column Leader Prime Sharif, I believe you’re familiar with him-- co-head of our organization.”</p><p> </p><p>Sharif’s eyes narrowed, “Yes, I am.” He could have sworn for a second Nanhar had mouthed something at him. Kaitet resisted the urge to roll her eyes.</p><p> </p><p>Everyone nodded at one another in greetings, Mason hit a control, “We have documents for an armistice that we can negotiate over, the Shades have their own agreement, but a lot of our terms cross over, and I presume the Compact negotiating team has some as well.”</p><p> </p><p>Sharif nodded, “Yes, something like that.” His eyes passed over everyone, halted by Nanhar for a heartbeat, then fixed completely on the shortest being in the room. “You have impressive staff, Ms. Moreno.”</p><p> </p><p>Moreno hadn't moved. Her arms remained crossed. Her scowl was fixed on him. She coldly replied, “The best. And it’s ‘admiral’, not ‘Ms’. I earned my title, and you will respect that.”</p><p> </p><p>“The Shade Flotilla seconds this, it will be much faster if we can get over a few hangups.” Kaitet said quickly. She cursed over and over internally.</p><p> </p><p>Sharif looked between them quizzically. “Very well.” He looked at the ambassador, “Mr. Mason, you may ready your information, and we’ll send our own first.” He glanced back at a member of his own staff, who nodded, and walked up with a thick bundle of paper. “It would have been easier to send it electronically.”</p><p> </p><p>“It couldn’t be helped,” Mason said apologetically. “I can send ours as soon as yours comes through.” The Compact aide placed the bundle in a bin on the wall to the side of the energy barrier. The bin closed, then after a few seconds cycled through a miniature airlock. A Marine walked over, looked at a display above the tiny lock, and gingerly lifted the bundle out. She walked back to pass it to the ambassador.</p><p> </p><p>Sharif put his hands behind his back and watched the Marine as she moved. His eyes flicked to Moreno’s peaked cap, then he gestured to the Marine. “That’s not Confederate Marine armor your troops are wearing, is it? It looks like repainted black market equipment.”</p><p> </p><p>Indeed it was black market equipment. Moreno looked him in the eye, and said nothing. Mason took a restraint pin off the bundle, revealing it was a stack of documents stapled together. He passed the copies out to the Shade and Confederate aides behind him.</p><p> </p><p>Sharif tilted his head again, a little perplexed. He made a small shrug, “Alright. You don’t have to comment. I will say that dress uniform is quite flattering, though.”</p><p> </p><p>Moreno relaxed a little. Her scowl shifted, “I’m sorry we had to take yours. We don’t know what kind of surprises you or your people may have woven into the fabric of your uniforms.”</p><p> </p><p>He blinked, then nodded, “Understandable. It’s unusual for pirate groups to be that thorough, but I suppose…”</p><p> </p><p>His eyes went to Nanhar, who made a smug inquiring gesture, as if to say ‘<em> well, go on! </em>’</p><p> </p><p>Moreno glanced at the rogue officer, then back to Sharif, “None of us are really pirates here. Except CEP Kaitet.”</p><p> </p><p>Sharif shrugged, “No, not really, I suppose.” He shifted again, and looked her up and down again, “How many years have you been in service, Rear Admiral?” </p><p> </p><p>The Compact didn’t seem to use abbreviations for some of the ranks, Moreno guessed it must be a mouthful. Her voice sharpened again, “None of your business.”</p><p> </p><p>Sharif frowned. Moreno felt goosebumps. Despite being around Tribunes for so long her skin crawled with this man. He spoke, “Very well. What are your terms, Rear Admiral?”</p><p> </p><p>“We have a number of terms for the cease-fire, Column Leader Prime,” Mason spoke up, “If I can just send it, your people can look them over while I give our opening statements. You’ll have to excuse some of our clumsiness, First Contact didn’t go well last time.”</p><p> </p><p>Sharif smiled in a manner Moreno recognized with anger. Her hands fell to her sides, opening and closing. Kaitet failed to suppress a scowl. Even Nanhar winced. The hated enemy spoke, “Oh, that’s alright. Go ahead.”</p><p> </p><p>Whether Mason recognized the expression or not he gave no indication. He simply looked down at his PDA, “The war was declared in 2782, the exact date is up for debate without access to one another’s complete records. A formal unconditional surrender was prepared in June of 2792, but we do not have the Compact response to that surrender. However, due to the outcome, we can only conclude that the surrender was soundly rejected, and thus a state of war still exists.”</p><p> </p><p>The Compact staff glanced up. Sharif’s smile faded. Kaitet’s eyes widened, and she touched one of her temples. Moreno’s mood darkened further. She crossed her arms again. Sharif said slowly, “But you don’t know what that surrender contained. You don’t know that it <em> was </em> a surrender. This document could have been--”</p><p> </p><p>Mason looked back at his device, “As surrender was considered for some time before the Fall of Earth, drafts of a possible surrender document were sent to all remaining Confederate holdings sent on January 1st, 2792. These were updated over the next five months. Based on these drafts, and fragments of extremely altered Compact records from Shade Flotilla resources, we can conclude that it was a formal and unconditional surrender.”</p><p> </p><p>“There’s no need to--” Kaitet tried to speak, but Sharif held up a hand.</p><p> </p><p>“What Compact records?”</p><p> </p><p>Mason flicked his eyes up with an uncharacteristic gaze of pure and utter <em> fury </em> . Without breaking eye contact, he entered commands into his PDA. A tinny audio file played. “ <em> This is the president of the United Earth Confederacy. On behalf of Earth, her colonies, and all allied nations, we surrender. We hereby proclaim the unconditional surrender to the Space Force of the Compact of Species of the United Earth Fleet Headquarters, of all Confederate armed forces and all armed forces under Confederate control. We can no longer continue this fight, and surrender to prevent further loss of life. </em>”</p><p> </p><p>Kaitet sighed silently. Nanhar furrowed his brow. She nudged him in the ribs, and he spread his hands. She shook her head, putting a hand near her face to make the universal Tribune gesture of “<em> don’t say a word </em>”.</p><p> </p><p>For the first time, Sharif seemed to falter. His presence shifted. “This is irrelevant.”</p><p> </p><p> A burst of anger seized the admiral. She put her hands at her sides, and leaned forward, "In case you thought this was a surrender, Mr Sharif, it's not. These are negotiations."</p><p> </p><p>“Ms. Moreno--”</p><p> </p><p>“<em> Mr. </em> Sharif, we are not surrendering. This is a cease-fire.”</p><p> </p><p>Sharif held up a finger, "Ah, it's column leader prime actually."</p><p> </p><p>Moreno straightened up, "And my title is 'admiral'. I earned that title and I respectfully request you refer to me as such."</p><p> </p><p>"Yes of course it is, Ms Moreno…" he said in a condescending paternal tone. Perhaps it was a warm tone in his culture.</p><p> </p><p>"Very well, <em> son </em>, I'll play your game," Moreno asked coolly.</p><p> </p><p>Sharif frowned again, “It’s Column Leader Prime--”</p><p> </p><p>Moreno crossed her arms again, “Young man, if we are using more informal titles, I shall refer to you the way we do so in my culture. These are such titles we use to refer to <em> children </em> in my culture.”</p><p> </p><p>“Miss, I--”</p><p> </p><p>Her arms were still crossed, “Mister, I do believe I’m at least ten years your elder. Try to show a little respect.”</p><p> </p><p>“Madam--”</p><p> </p><p>“If you don’t mind, I’d rather not stand here all die griping about titles and insulting one another!” Kaitet barked, “So if you two would stop playing…” she gestured vaguely, “<em> This </em>, can we please get back to the negotiations?”</p><p> </p><p>The others stopped arguing. "Well...that will depend on the requests…" Sharif grunted.</p><p> </p><p>Moreno hadn’t moved a muscle, her eyes were fixed on Sharif. In that moment, all her fury had a face, and a single target. He was unnerved by the look in her eye. Mason jumped in to try and restore order, "We wish to draw up an armistice which will include territorial and financial considerations."</p><p> </p><p>“If the Compact is willing, we’d like to add onto those with our own terms, but generally along those same lines.” Kaitet said.</p><p> </p><p>Sharif was baffled, and looked only at the admiral, "Pardon me? You can't be serious."</p><p> </p><p>"Oh we can't?" Moreno glowered, “Mr. Mason. Our terms.”</p><p> </p><p>Mason looked at his PDA, “In exchange for an armistice, the Compact of Species will cede control of all occupied United Earth Confederacy territory, will repatriate all personnel in Compact custody, will remove all military personnel from occupied territory, and will provide means to evacuate any and all civilians who wish to remain under Compact rule. Any who wish to remain may do so. Infrastructure is up for negotiation, but all infrastructure of human construction, as well as any and all infrastructure on Rally, is non-negotiable and must remain. Any and all human artifacts and information within Compact custody, or in the hands of private individuals under Compact jurisdiction, must be turned over immediately. Any and all research data obtained from, generated by, and related to Confederate and Allied sources must be turned over immediately, with all copies destroyed, unless they are reconstructed from the original source and are of a better quality in which case both shall be turned over. All Compact war records must be handed over unaltered. This includes classified sources.</p><p> </p><p>“Furthermore, for the attempted destruction of human civilization, history, and all human knowledge, genocide on every level, war crimes too numerous to mention, crimes against sapient life too numerous to mention, the attempted extermination of entire biospheres too numerous to mention, catastrophic environmental damage and destruction too numerous to mention, enslavement of sapient beings, racial discrimination based on pseudo-science, and copyright infringement laws, the Compact of Species will pay restitution and reparations to the government of United Earth and her allies, to all United Earth Confederacy citizens for the grief they have caused, and will be judged as per the punishment for war crimes as they are defined under their own laws set by the Compact Department on Genocide Avoidance, Department of Combat Ethics, Ministry of Warfare, Ministry of Peace, Ministry of Justice and Equity, and Articles of the Compact. If the Compact wishes to offer humanitarian aid, or terraforming equipment, this would be acceptable. We must and will add further conditions for any and all other violations of sapient rights, crimes, and similar criteria that may be discovered in the process of this restitution agreement.”</p><p> </p><p>Mason looked from the screen, “All things considered, given the utter violation of the entire human race, its worlds, the biospheres of said worlds, and all related parties committed by the Compact of Species, this is a very modest request. We have no shortage of charges to levy. We are requesting a <em> very </em> minor restoration of modified pre-war conditions, and see justice served. These are clear violations of the laws of all of our governments. The terms, punishments, fines and agreements are all covered under Compact law and the Articles of the Compact, as well as the Earth International Court of Justice, and the Geneva Conventions. They’re likely covered under Askanj Principality law, but we don’t have a good manual for that.”</p><p> </p><p>The energy shield shimmered and buzzed slightly. The Compact diplomatic staff argued amongst themselves in astonishment at the forms on their devices. Kaitet looked almost impressed. Nanhar’s gaze narrowed, only partially in befuddlement, mostly in anger. He and Sharif were almost of one mind. His cousin elbowed him again.</p><p> </p><p>The Compact officer blinked one set of eyes then the other. “You cannot be serious. Rally doesn’t even count as pre-war borders!”</p><p> </p><p>Mason calmly replied, “Rally, and all related deep-range fallback points were claimed by survey teams under Confederate jurisdiction before First Contact was made. Furthermore, ‘modified conditions’ includes any territory unclaimed by pre-war survey teams but claimed by refugees fleeing Compact extermination forces. A complete record of all these facilities, according to our sources, are kept in deep Compact archives. If these records happen to disappear, manual searches must be done until justice has been served.”</p><p> </p><p>Kaitet’s eyes widened, and she fumbled with her own pad, “The Shade Flotilla also has demands of our own! We support humanity’s demands to indict the Triarchs for crimes too numerous to mention under Compact law. We also demand that the Compact cease blockading our territory, pull out of all territory claimed by or protected by the Shade Flotilla, and full disclosure of all records of the families and personnel of the Shade Flotilla. A number of our people were disposed of by CIS, and we deserve to know their fates. We also have additional information in our documents.”</p><p> </p><p>Sharif’s eyes widened, then relaxed. He slowly turned away from the ambassador to face Moreno, "Ms. Moreno, those are dead worlds."</p><p> </p><p>"Thanks to you, young man. That’s our problem, and you’re going to give them back."</p><p> </p><p>"We can't do that,” Sharif shook his head, “Look, even if they weren’t, it’s been 2,000 years. You’re trying to retaliate against the Compact for something done so long ago, only the Triarchs remember.”</p><p> </p><p>Nanhar’s dubious expression vanished for a moment, and his eyes narrowed, “And that makes it all better? Because the Triarchs do something, that makes it alright?”</p><p> </p><p>Sharif glared back, “As if you care about Client races.”</p><p> </p><p>“War crimes and crimes against sapient life don’t have an expiration date, especially if they’re still being carried out,” Mason said loudly.</p><p> </p><p>“What’s being carried out?” Sharif demanded.</p><p> </p><p>“It would be one thing if it were in the past, but the degrading treatment and continued occupation and virtual enslavement of the people of Rally continue to violate human rights and rules of war on a daily basis,” Mason explained, and looked at his PDA again, “These crimes include: Torture and inhuman treatment, including biological experiments; wilfully causing great suffering and serious injury to body and health; compelling prisoners of war to serve in the forces of a hostile power; unlawful transfer and confinement; the direct and indirect transfer by the ccupying power of parts of its own civilian population onto Rally, and the deportation or transfer of parts of the population of Rally within or outside Compact territory.”</p><p> </p><p>“That’s--”</p><p> </p><p>Mason held up a hand, “Crimes also include subjecting UEC citizens who are in the Compact’s power to physical mutilation or to medical or scientific experiments of any kind which are neither justified by the medical, dental or hospital treatment of the person concerned nor carried out in his or her interest, and which cause death to or seriously endanger their health."</p><p> </p><p>Sharif did the equivalent of a human <em> tut tut tut </em>. It came out as a low, menacing growl. "We bring medicine to your people and help the sick. Is that a war crime?" Sharif asked.</p><p> </p><p>"I wouldn't call abusing children 'help', Mr. Sharif," Moreno said, "Behavioral control implants, especially given to children, simply because they misbehave, is wrong." She nodded her head at Kaitet, "And I happen to know for a fact that it is done at a statistically higher rate for far lower misdemeanors to Client races than to Tribunes."</p><p> </p><p>Kaitet nodded, "Being a Client child with no record is as good as a Tribune child with a record to the authorities. I'm speaking from personal experience."</p><p> </p><p>"Then I'm sorry for your experience, Ms. Kaitet, but I know little of this subject. But if they do it, I'm sure they have good reason. I will admit, sometimes mistakes are made, and that is a grievous error. But as many flaws as our system has, that is no reason to secede from the Compact and…”</p><p> </p><p>Mason looked at his PDA, “We also have declaring abolished, suspended or inadmissible in a court of law the rights and actions of UEC nationals; committing outrages upon personal dignity, in particular humiliating and degrading treatment; population growth restriction--”</p><p> </p><p>“That’s enough!” One of the Compact officers snarled, and stepped forward, “Ridiculous lies are one thing, but insisting that birth control is a crime…”</p><p> </p><p>“Column Leader Depta!” Sharif barked. When she didn’t say anything more, Sharif looked at the humans, “Birth control is not a crime.”</p><p> </p><p>“It is not. In fact the Confederacy prides itself on providing easy access to it,” Mason said, “And that is not what we are talking about. We are talking about population growth control.”</p><p> </p><p>A UEC aide shuffled forward, “Your government has openly boasted of, and I quote, ‘eliminating humanity’s predisposition toward violence’, ‘breeding the Broken for docility and obedience’, and insisted that ‘the Broken must remain forever Broken’. This is open Eugenics rhetoric. While there may not be active sterilization occurring, as the Compact has shown absolutely no moral compunction of any kind, we can only conclude that some manner of population control, legally, economically, or medically, is being done. While the population growth rate appears healthy, assuming an initial population of between 200,000 and one million, we are dubious. It is physically impossible for selective breeding of homo sapiens to be done through conventional methods, and if this is not what is being done, then genetic modification is being done, and that brings us back to the other crimes.”</p><p> </p><p>“If genetic engineering is not being done, then conventional eugenics are being done. And if neither are being done, your leaders are so woefully incompetent as to fail in basic speaking skills,” Masoon said cooly, “This is not being taken out of context.”</p><p> </p><p>“This is ridiculous,” Depta scoffed, “This is not ‘eugenics’, this is biology.”</p><p> </p><p>“Racially discriminatory pseudoscience then,” Mason said, “Ancient criminals on Earth attempted to utilize these methods."</p><p> </p><p>Depta let out a short laugh, crossed her arms, and said matter-of-factly, "Obviously they were doing it wrong, but you are the criminals if you think they had the wrong idea.”</p><p> </p><p>The humans all tensed or flinched at that. Moreno bristled.</p><p> </p><p>"There's a pretty common understanding that this doesn't work. Even ignoring the moral arguments, do your people know how genetics work?" Mason asked, "Eugenics are not simply immoral, but bad science. Humans have limited genetic diversity in the first place, even compared to other animals on our homeworld. Cutting out significant parts of it is extremely dangerous. Surely your people have a map of the human genome? Even if one of our own didn't survive, surely your scientists made one. We have a genetic bottleneck. It's theorized to be related to a natural disaster on Earth thousands of years ago. We have a genetic bottleneck as it is, and you want to limit it further?"</p><p> </p><p>"Our scientists know what they're doing," Depta insisted dismissively.</p><p> </p><p>Mason looked at his PDA again, "Even if this worked, there could be any number of unforeseen factors. Adding traits is one thing, but something that seems negative now might provide a useful trait later. This could seriously damage the Rally population, as humans already have a lower genetic diversity as it is, even with what the initial colonists were able to do to avoid the problem. They likely were able to maintain the same level of genetic diversity as we did before the war, but this is still dangerous. Sickle cell anemia is a dangerous disease, but it's a part of the gene that resists malaria. If you take that out, suddenly huge chunks of the population are vulnerable."</p><p> </p><p>"If you hadn't run away, you wouldn't need to worry about that." Depta said, "Maybe all the good and sane ones were wiped out in that disaster."</p><p> </p><p>"Column Leader, quiet." Sharif hissed.</p><p> </p><p>"So you're saying you've cured all the heritable genetic diseases?" Mason asked, then checked his notes, “Ah yes. You’ve done some work in that area.” He looked back at them, and his eyes narrowed, “Good publicity.”</p><p> </p><p>"Look, this isn't relevant--" Sharif spoke up, and was surprised that Mason's hand stopped him again.</p><p> </p><p>"One of you answer the question. Was the goal to help us or to tailor the Rally population to your aesthetic appeal? The problem with eugenics is that what little science exists can easily be warped to fit political narratives to get rid of people you don't like, and is useless as a science. What if your basis for the 'negative' genes is based on a faulty test? Furthermore, epigenetics renders this entire concept invalid. Genes aren’t set in stone, some turn on and off depending on the environment, and even during a being’s life. Canines, a kind of domesticated animal, will change their ear shape depending on how much stress the mother was under during pregnancy.”</p><p> </p><p>“We understand that perfectly well,” Sharif said, “We’re not being so crude as to just destroy traits we don’t like, we’re trying to <em> guide </em> you, we’re trying to turn on the right genes. Your insanity was clearly an environmental one. Much like these canines you describe, you…” he hesitated, “Your people were under incredible stress before we came, your society's suffering caused the insanity that affected the others. The structure of your society and culture was inherently unhealthy. It made them lash out aggressively and stubbornly," he hesitated, "Your first ship fired on ours to try and destroy us. We were trying to help, but the inherent flaws in your society had created a gene of insanity, activating those genes and infected most of your species.”</p><p> </p><p>“You forced our hand.” Depta said cooly, "You provoked us. <em> You </em>caused this. You're ultimately to blame."</p><p> </p><p>Moreno glared at her.</p><p> </p><p>Mason gritted his teeth, “What your people describe, aggression and stubbornness, are mainly psychological and cultural traits, which your leaders again, do not seem to understand are <em> not </em> genetic. Humans don't work that way, aggression and stubbornness can be particularly cultural. And even if that weren't a problem, and if you could truly 'breed out' <em> psychological </em> traits, such as aggression, out of the already-extremely limited human genetic pool, doesn't that hamper the Rally population's ability to survive on their own?"</p><p> </p><p>"But you <em> can’t </em> survive on your own. That's what the Compact is here for," Sharif said, taking his opportunity, "It's not your fault nature had its way with you. It wasn't your fault the genetic bottleneck happened. We're here to protect you, all of you," he spoke to the room at large, "We can fix the flaws of that disaster, we've already fixed the genetic disorder that...well, that's our goal." He looked down and he shuffled a little, "We're here to protect you until you can stand on your own. You're too young and potentially too dangerous to leave to stand on your own. You're practically children."</p><p> </p><p>"In case you hadn't noticed, we're <em> not </em> children," Moreno said, "And the way you treat <em> our </em> children is monstrous."</p><p> </p><p>"You think it's wrong? I shudder to think of what poor disciplinarians your species would be," Depta said.</p><p> </p><p>Mason narrowed his gaze, “We were standing on our own before you came. Your leaders openly say they are removing the very things that allowed humanity to survive on Earth, and to colonize the stars. Not just to destroy our cultures, but aspects of humanity that are built into our bones. Aspects that are how we function. We're pursuit predators, our bodies are designed for hunting, and to persist, which one could argue needs stubbornness to facilitate that. How can we possibly stand on our own in your hypothetical future when you're removing the very things that allowed us to stand on our own for over 200,000 years?"</p><p> </p><p>"You're a very young species," Sharif soothed, like a school principal, "You have much to learn, and you're close to your roots. It wasn't as long ago for you that you needed those instincts to survive in the jungles and on the plains. But instincts like those, and the culture that produced those uniforms, they're obsolete. We can protect you until you can <em> truly </em> stand on your own."</p><p> </p><p>"We reached technological parity with you in under seven hundred years, and that was before the war," Moreno said, "We nearly matched you in a much shorter timeframe. If we'd been bigger, we'd have won the war."</p><p> </p><p>Sharif shook his head, "We're also here to keep the strong from preying on the weak."</p><p> </p><p>"And to kill the weak before they become strong?" Moreno asked harshly.</p><p> </p><p>"No. We're here to make sure everyone can be strong," Sharif said carefully. His eyes kept falling on the admiral.</p><p> </p><p>"Who watches the watchmen?" Kaitet asked, "The Triarchs can do whatever they want, and no one can stop them. They're preemptively killing the 'weak' as you put it. They knock over everyone in their way, and kill them if they don't play nice. They throw a hissy fit…" Moreno blinked and wonder where she learned that phrase, "That kills <em> my </em> ancestors, and their people alike, and you say it's <em> justified </em>?"</p><p> </p><p>“We kill when we must, it’s the natural order of things,” Depta said, “And we’re the Compact. We can watch ourselves.”</p><p> </p><p>Moreno shook her head. Mason looked at her. Sharif frowned as he took a step back. He wasn’t exactly familiar with human body language, but something was off about Moreno at the moment.</p><p> </p><p>She stepped forward to stand close to the shield. She looked at the Tribunes with such a face. It was a wash of the few emotions Sharif could read. Anger, sadness, and grief. And one emotion above all. A burning, searing, scorching, and unending <em> hate </em>. For a moment Sharif felt like he wanted to step out of her way, anything to keep her eyes off him. There was something about those eyes. Why wouldn’t she stop looking at him? "Earth had people a lot like you once. We're the good guys who emerged from those conflicts. What does that tell you?"</p><p> </p><p>"It tells us you're delusional," Depta muttered.</p><p> </p><p>Kaitet noted in the back of her mind she was almost surprised Nanhar hadn't said so. But as bad as he was, even he wasn't that cruel.</p><p> </p><p>Depta stepped forward, "Your people were <em> monsters </em>, 'Rear Admiral'. If we hadn't stopped them, they'd have swarmed all over space. Do you know how many Compact soldiers they killed?"</p><p> </p><p>Moreno looked at Depta. "You can't believe it, can you? Even though you know, you still can't believe it. Scores of billions are just numbers on a page, but you still can't believe it. You can't possibly fathom that your precious empire would kill that many <em> people </em>." She held up a hand and tilted her head, "But wait, we weren't people, were we? We were animals. Vermin. Savages to be wiped out."</p><p> </p><p>She turned those terrible eyes on Sharif again. "Can you imagine it?" She asked softly, "Sixteen billion people on Earth. Four billion in the outer system. There were tens of billions on the other colonies too. They were expected to grow larger than Earth's population in time. But you took that away."</p><p> </p><p>"We didn't do that, I tell you!" Sharif said, “Those were the regrettable and necessary actions of those who are long dead. ”</p><p> </p><p>Moreno started to laugh. She looked down and touched a fist to her forehead. It was a rapid staccato laugh, high in her throat through gritted teeth. She turned those flat teeth and those terrible eyes on him. She sneered in a high-pitched tone, “‘We didn’t do it, others did', 'someone else did it,', 'we didn't know it was being done'. Don’t try me, Mr. Sharif. Those are the same pathetic whimpers we’ve all heard a thousand times over. You didn’t do it, true, and that doesn’t matter when you <em> approve </em> of it.”</p><p> </p><p>She smiled in a grotesque way, it reminded Sharif of a horror movie puppet, “Imagine it, Sharif,” her face drew into a scowl, “Sixteen billion people."</p><p> </p><p>Sharif swallowed. “Can you?”</p><p> </p><p>Moreno grimaced, and turned her gaze on Nanhar, "Imagine it for your old friend, Nanhar. Imagine the countless families, the children. Don't think of them as Broken, think of them as Tribune children. Imagine if someone--"</p><p> </p><p>"That's <em> enough </em>!" Sharif roared, his voice cracking as he pounded the shield with a fist. His staff jumped back in shock. Even Depta put up her hands, "That's enough!"</p><p> </p><p>Moreno looked at him, and for a moment, there was no hatred, no sadness, no grief. There was simply <em> pity </em>.</p><p> </p><p>Then her face changed back to the warrior of hell. "if you wear that uniform long enough it's going to stain your soul. A pity you can't even face this with dignity, or with your conscience. Doesn't that thought enrage you? Men, women, children, infants, slaughtered, incinerated," she clenched her jaw, “<em> Murdered. </em> And for what? Why? What did we ever do to you?"</p><p> </p><p>Sharif's eyes flicked down to his sleeve.</p><p> </p><p>"Because you're a lying little Broken!" Depta snarled.</p><p> </p><p>Moreno's fury brightened, "You approve of extermination?"</p><p> </p><p>"If it means the safety of the galaxy, then yes! Your people were rabid beasts, meant only to be put down! A pathetic, worthless little--"</p><p> </p><p>"Then why were we a threat, huh? If we were so pathetic and useless, why take us in? Why even try to kill us?" Moreno pointed at Depta as she glared at Sharif, "<em> This </em> demands justice. Your people wiped us out because you could. You tried to cover it up with pseudoscience, but we all know it's pointless. That's the mind of a sadist. For every child you murdered, for every future you took away, for every bone you buried and every drop of blood you shed, we deserve payment. This demands <em> justice </em> . Our terms would be a <em> start </em> . There was no reason for what you did, no grand plan, don't pretend like it was otherwise. You did it just because you <em> can </em>."</p><p> </p><p>"We did it for the safety of all! Your people are far better off now than they were!" Sharif snapped.</p><p> </p><p>"The ragged handful of survivors from your murders."</p><p> </p><p>"There's no starvation!"</p><p> </p><p>"Scraps from your tables."</p><p> </p><p>Sharif put his hands to his face for a moment, then dropped them, and held them out imploringly, "We protected you! We found you and protected you!"</p><p> </p><p>Depta snapped, “Listen to him you ungrateful little bully.”</p><p> </p><p>"Ungrateful?" Kaitet almost roared. "Is that what you call them?"</p><p> </p><p>Depta whirled on her, "Just because you couldn't appreciate--!"</p><p> </p><p>Kaitet shook her head, "What justice do law-abiding citizens get when they're not Ruling Races? What justice does a human get when they're killed in a street protest vs a Tribune? A Tribune gets a pat on the back, the human is taken out back and beaten to death."</p><p> </p><p>"If they're anything like this one, they deserve it!" Depta shouted and pointed at Moreno.</p><p> </p><p>"Column Leader!" Sharif admonished as he tried to get a hold of himself.</p><p> </p><p>"Thank you for proving my point, young lady," Moreno said easily, "Funny how quick you raise your voice when you don't get your way. Is this the restraint the Compact shows?"</p><p> </p><p>Depta glared at the admiral, "Were I not an officer of the Space Force, I would rip your head and spine from your body and--"</p><p> </p><p>"Column Leader!" Sharif snapped again. Depta's eyes went wide and she finally calmed down.</p><p> </p><p>Moreno snorted, "Pretty violent imagery for someone so peaceful. This is why the field is here."</p><p> </p><p>Moreno looked at her boots, then back at the aliens. "You killed billions."</p><p> </p><p>"To save trillions." Sharif said. He meant for it to be strong, but it came out almost as a whimper.</p><p> </p><p>"A handful of ships, a handful of planets, and a handful of people compared to yours,” Mason said cooly, “We posed no threat to you. Our presence here should tell you that. The very fact that this few of us survived for so long should tell you that. Your own people would agree it was a crime if we weren’t <em> human </em>.”</p><p> </p><p>“It wasn’t because you were human!” Sharif insisted.</p><p> </p><p>“Imagine it, son,” Moreno hissed, “Children clinging to their parents, hiding in what shelter they could find. Imagine the fires incinerating them, or shredding them like hamburger. Imagine the children wailing as the missiles come down and--"</p><p> </p><p>"Shut up!" Depta roared.</p><p> </p><p>Moreno put a hand to her chest as her eyes went wide, "Oh, dear me. I apologize. I thought the screams of your victims pleased you!”</p><p> </p><p>Depta’s mouth hung open slightly.</p><p> </p><p>Moreno’s expression narrowed again, “Relish in it. This is your legacy. A hundred billion souls crying out in agony. Hundreds of worlds burned to cinders. <em> That </em> is the true face of the Compact. Pain, hurt, and <em> death </em>. That is your legacy, that is your face to the galaxy. Not hope, not civilization, but fear and silence. Silence, because anything that disrupts your precious universe is to be destroyed."</p><p> </p><p>Sharif seethed with rage, and forced himself to calm down. He noted in the back of his mind how different this human and her comrades really were from other Broken. If they saw something they didn't like, they complained. They talked back. They thought they could do everything better than the greatest intragalactic civilization ever. They were troublemakers. Upstarts. They just wouldn't sit down and stop making noise. Good and proper citizens let their leaders take care of things and didn't inconvenience them. Everyone had a place in the Compact. They had to know where their place was. Even for someone with such progressive attitudes as his, this was asking a lot.</p><p> </p><p>Sharif looked at his old classmate across the field. He looked at him like a lifeline, “Nanhar.”</p><p> </p><p>“Yeah?” The male asked. He coughed. The tone of the word wasn’t that of a grizzled rebel, but that of a twenty-year old upper class cadet.</p><p> </p><p>“Help me out here. You know what the ancient humans were like. Can you help me explain this?”</p><p> </p><p>Moreno’s eyebrow shot up. She looked between the two officers, and before Nanhar could say anything, demanded, “Tell me, right now, what's a diagnosis of racial insanity? What makes me different from a Rally human? Our blood bleeds red just the same."</p><p> </p><p>"I’m not a biologist.” Sharif said with a shake of his head.</p><p> </p><p>Kaitet interrupted, and raised both her hands in a desperate attempt to calm everybody down, “None of us are. Column Leader, Nanhar, if we can please refrain from comments in matters we don’t understand?” Depta scowled, and nodded. Nanhar threw up his hands.</p><p> </p><p>"Neither am I,” Moreno said, “All we want is our homes back. It's only fair."</p><p> </p><p>Sharif grimaced, "We can't--"</p><p> </p><p>"Why not? Why the hell not?" she snapped.</p><p> </p><p>"You know why!" Sharif fidgeted at his sleeve again. He felt her eyes burning him. It was like a leaking nuclear reactor. Sooner or later his badge would turn black.</p><p> </p><p>"Do you? It’s not for whatever nonsense you think,” Moreno snarled, “It’s because you can't stand the thought of someone being different, of someone who doesn't follow your god, someone who isn't a member of the glorious Compact. Oh, and because you can't stand the idea of an armed force at your back." She glared those eyes at him yet again, “It’s practical reasons, not your bullshit ideologies.”</p><p> </p><p>Sharif peered down at her. This human was so confrontational, so aggressive. He shook his head, "Ms Moreno, this is ridiculous, you're in no position to make demands. You must surrender."</p><p> </p><p>Moreno shook her head right back, "you don't accept surrenders, remember? A cease fire and reparations are all I see."</p><p> </p><p>"We don’t accept surrenders? Are you mad?" Column Leader Depta demanded. The female stepped up to stand beside Sharif, "These demands are ridiculous!"</p><p> </p><p>“Ask yourself that. You’re defending and justifying genocide.”</p><p> </p><p>“It wasn’t genocide!” Sharif said loudly.</p><p> </p><p>Moreno felt a well of anger inflate in her chest. She clenched her fists, took a wide stance, and bared her teeth, “<em> Excuse me </em>?”</p><p> </p><p>“Admiral…” Mason said warningly. </p><p> </p><p>Kaitet rubbed her eyes. <em> We’re just buying time, we’re just buying time, we’re just buying time... </em></p><p> </p><p>Sharif looked both confused and fascinated by the admiral’s display of fury. It was the same kind as Carmody’s. Still so very unusual for the Broken. He tilted his head, “M...Rear Admiral, where are you from? Not Rally, obviously.”</p><p> </p><p>“Figured that out on your own, did you?” Moreno took a haggard breath, struggling to control her fury and her grief. The shield was there to keep them from tearing the Tribunes apart as much as it was for the opposite. “I come from Slayton Colony.”</p><p> </p><p>Sharif took a small step back, and looked at her, “Slayton Colony? I’m not familiar with it.”</p><p> </p><p>“Midrange colony. Why do you want to know?” Moreno clarified.</p><p> </p><p>Sharif opened his mouth slightly, “Ah...no, I meant...where are you <em> from </em>?”</p><p> </p><p>Moreno furrowed her brow, “Excuse me? Oh... Port Larson, Slayton Colony.”</p><p> </p><p>“Further back, I mean. Where are you from?” He seemed so very confused.</p><p> </p><p>Moreno’s brow furrowed further, “...What do you mean? I mean, I have family from Terra Nova…”</p><p> </p><p>Sharif scratched his head, “That’s not what I meant--”</p><p> </p><p>“My ancestors come from a lot of places. Guatemala, the United States, Spain. Earth? Is that what you want?”</p><p> </p><p>Sharif shook his head, “You’re still insisting on it? I don’t mean you any harm, Ms. Moreno. You don’t have to keep lying. I just want to know--”</p><p> </p><p>“It’s <em> Admiral </em>,” she corrected, “And I was born in Port Larson.”</p><p> </p><p>Sharif sighed, “Must I guess? You must’ve been from one of the inner worlds...”</p><p> </p><p>Moreno was baffled, “I mean...Slayton Colony was midrange, but only technically, it was between the midrange and outer colonies. Do you want my street address? You can’t visit it anymore, you know that right? The tourist bureau got nuked into next Wednesday.”</p><p> </p><p>Sharif held up a hand, “No, no, Ms. Moreno, that’s not what I mean. I’m assuming you’re from an inner world. Which was it? Was it a Tribune world? A Thoughtful? Who were your foster parents?”</p><p> </p><p>Moreno was befuddled. “What?”</p><p> </p><p>Mason looked at her, then at Sharif, “You said you knew who we are.”</p><p> </p><p>“I know who you claim to be. I never said who I thought you were, but I know who you are,” Sharif said.</p><p> </p><p>Moreno’s eyes went wide. <em> Oh no. </em> “Oh...you son of a <em> bitch </em>.”</p><p> </p><p>“What?” Mason asked in shock.</p><p> </p><p>Moreno gestured at Sharif, “He thinks we’re LARPers.” She sighed passively, “And here I <em> almost </em>thought you believed us.” She threw up her hands, “Guess I don’t win the betting pool.” She was almost relieved. They didn’t have any information about the Displacement Engine. Of course that begged the question, why were they negotiating?</p><p> </p><p>Mason’s surprise faded. He grimaced and nodded. He muttered very quietly, “I figured.”</p><p> </p><p>Sharif nodded with only a hint of shame, “We had to. You wouldn’t talk to us otherwise. I had to speak your language, because you wouldn’t drop the act. Now please, see reason, and stop pretending. You’re not the ancient humans, you’re Broken from Rally like most other humans-- well, except for you, Ms. Moreno.”</p><p> </p><p>Moreno’s eyes twitched. He hadn’t known a thing. She took a long and deep breath. “My mothers were Reyes and Lourdes Moreno, my brother was Fernao Moreno. My parents were born in the colony when they still couldn’t grow plants. They lived aboard the L1 colony.”</p><p> </p><p>Sharif tapped his foot, “Ms. Moreno, please. There’s no need to hide it. I know there were a number of children like yourself taken in by good Ruling Species families. Do you know about the Envoy Program? I’m sure your parents--”</p><p> </p><p>She took an aggressive step forward, her small quiet 160 centimeter frame infused with power ten times her size, “Don’t you <em> dare </em> talk about my parents. You have no idea what you’re talking about.”</p><p> </p><p>Sharif looked <em> surprised </em>, honestly surprised. Her eyes were burning him again. He fidgeted at his sleeve, and then his tunic. “But-- Ms--Rear Admiral, this is your past. It’s just a statement of fact. Think about what you’re doing to the people who are following you. Think about what you’re doing to them.”</p><p> </p><p>“What am<em> I </em> doing to <em> them </em> ?” Moreno stepped forward again, “What about what <em> you’re </em> doing to them? You’ve pursued us over hill and dale, ready to kill us every step of the way, and when we’re stranded, you want to <em> talk </em> ? My people are on the verge of losing hope or going kamikaze on your asses. I have over a million men, women, and children crammed bulkhead to bulkhead on ships that are flying apart, eating controlled rations and <em> one </em> bad water shortage away from death. All because of <em> you </em>.”</p><p> </p><p>Sharif shook his head, “No, it’s not our fault!”</p><p> </p><p>“Not yours, <em> technically </em>, I suppose.”</p><p> </p><p>The Compact officer shook his head again, “No, it’s not my fault, and it’s not your fault. How bad are conditions on your ships?”</p><p> </p><p>“Take a guess. Compact forces never cared about that sort of thing before.” Moreno said.</p><p> </p><p>“We <em> always </em> care about such things.”</p><p> </p><p>Moreno’s fury flared again. Her expression didn’t change, “That is a <em> lie </em>.”</p><p> </p><p>Sharif frowned. He had to admit something. He couldn’t deny what he knew was fact. “Yes... but again, those were the actions of people who are long gone. But they <em> had </em> to be done.”</p><p> </p><p>“There were four point four <em> billion </em> children in Sol when you burned them out. Children, son. Children who never had a chance to grow up. Do you ever think of that? Or do they sing songs of all the murdered children?”</p><p> </p><p>Sharif shook his head, “That’s uncalled for.”</p><p> </p><p>Moreno <em> laughed </em>. She took a lighter step forward, and her laugh continued, “Uncalled for? Funny, coming from a man dressed in a bloody uniform.”</p><p> </p><p>Without thinking, Sharif’s eyes darted down to his jacket. It was a different jacket. Did she…? He shook his head, “I’m not a murderer. And I’m sorry, but it’s just a fact. You’re not from Slayton Colony. Allow me to spell it out. You’re far too educated about humanity’s past to have come from Rally. You must have been raised on one of the inner worlds by a ruling species family. What world was it? What made you turn away from the Compact?”</p><p> </p><p>“And I tell you I’m from Slayton Colony. I have <em> never </em> seen a Compact world,” her face relaxed somewhat, and she spat, “...None that weren’t first taken from humanity. None that we didn’t take back.”</p><p> </p><p> Sharif put a hand to his head, “Ms Moreno--”</p><p> </p><p>She glared, her shoulders straight and her fists at her sides. She snarled through gritted teeth, "We <em> surrendered </em> , and you murdered us, you dishonourable bastards. We surrendered, damn you. And you have the audacity to call us mad. You cowards. You didn’t <em> have </em> to kill everyone else, you didn’t <em> have </em> to chase us, you destroyed our entire navy, we’d <em> surrendered </em> ! But <em> no </em> ! You <em> chose </em> to glass us! You <em> chose </em> to pursue us! How can we possibly trust you, when you won't even honor a simple surrender?"</p><p> </p><p>"That was a special circumstance--"</p><p> </p><p>"The Principality has killed chariots and they're not extinct." Moreno spat.</p><p> </p><p>Sharif spread his hands, “Rear Admiral, you just don’t understand. The Compact is kind and loving, but we have to have a firm hand--”</p><p> </p><p>Moreno laughed harshly, putting up both hands in utter frustration. She turned her gaze on him, “Kindness? Is that what you call it?”</p><p> </p><p>“Surely you remember--”</p><p> </p><p>“<em> No </em> !” she shouted with a swipe of her arm, “No <em> ! You’re monsters </em> ! Humanity has <em> never </em>known the ‘kindness’ of the Compact!”</p><p> </p><p>“Admiral--!” Mason tried to speak up, to try and get some semblance of order back, but Moreno was too far gone.</p><p> </p><p>Everyone in the compartment shrank back from her as she approached the shield, “Do you know what I’ve seen? I saw your ships blasting civilian liners out of the sky, I saw you burn our cities, and <em> Compact soldiers </em> gassing <em> our children </em> . We've never seen your kindness, your professed benevolence. All we have ever seen has been <em> your </em> bootheel on <em> our </em> necks, as you destroy everything we ever built, the very things <em> you </em> say makes us special! You took away everything! All we have <em> ever </em> seen from the Compact is hatred, pain, torment, and enslavement! <em> That </em> is the face of the Compact, <em> admiral </em> ! Our children live in <em> fear </em> of you! My people are afraid of <em> you </em> ! You are <em> monsters </em> , you hunt our people for sport, you are our nightmares! Don't you get it? <em> You're </em>the bad guys!"</p><p> </p><p>Sharif was speechless. "You...you're <em> afraid? </em>"</p><p> </p><p>"<em> Yes, dammit, I'm afraid </em>!" The admiral snapped, "I'm afraid that if we didn’t have this shield handy, you'd snap my neck and laugh about it till you're old and grey!"</p><p> </p><p>"But--"</p><p> </p><p>She pointed to one of the Marines, "his wife was executed by Tribunes who <em> laughed </em>as she begged."</p><p> </p><p>She pointed to another, "Her wife died protecting their children from <em> your </em>shock troopers!"</p><p> </p><p>Moreno put a fist to her head for a moment, and cast a sad gaze at Mason. He nodded quickly and numbly. Moreno’s fury was back as she pointed at him and looked at Sharif, "Him? His children were gassed. They were gassed in their school by a Compact plane. On <em> purpose </em>."</p><p> </p><p>She put her fist on the shield. Her hand burned but she didn’t care, "You destroyed <em> everything </em> we loved. You murdered us. You gassed us, starved us, beat us, shot us, and <em> murdered us. </em> You took away our families, our friends, and our homes. Why?”</p><p> </p><p>Sharif didn’t answer, and Moreno beat her fist on the shield enough to make a shimmer run through it, “<em> Why? </em> To teach us a lesson? All you've done, far from making us agree with you, is make us want to run <em> far, far, </em> far <em> away from you </em> , because all we've learned is that <em> you </em> want to kill us just for <em> being </em> ! All we know is that you <em> hate us </em>!”</p><p> </p><p>Sharif could <em> feel </em> the hatred radiating off her. He could feel the grief, the anger, and the sadness. A wave of sadness and despair barely kept in check by hatred and stubborn nobility. Nobility? From a Broken? They were children. He couldn’t think. So many dead, so many hurt, the victims right in front of him. It couldn’t be. It had been a necessary evil, nothing more. Nothing more. He shut his eyes, and rubbed at his temples. How could this small creature be so...so…?</p><p> </p><p>Moreno tilted her head, her mouth open slightly as she watched the Tribune’s body language. She was still leaning against the shield. Sharif was… confused. “You really didn’t think about us, did you? You didn’t think of us as people.”</p><p> </p><p>“I-- No, your ancestors were violent. They were monsters. They fired at us. Your people started the war. They were a warlike species.” He remembered the videos of those...those <em> things </em> as they charged. Lunatics in a psychotic blood frenzy, lashing out against all reason against a superior force when they should’ve surrendered. Slowly his cognitive faculties reconstructed arguments. “They didn’t know when to surrender. That surrender order...that can’t be real. Your people started it.”</p><p> </p><p>Moreno shook her head. Her demeanor shifted. Sharif saw a strange look in her eyes. “You don’t understand us. Sharif, do you know what Slayton Colony is named for?”</p><p> </p><p>Sharif tilted his head, “I’m sorry, but I do not.”</p><p> </p><p>“Donald K. Slayton. Deke Slayton.”</p><p> </p><p>Sharif nodded. He clearly didn’t recognize the name, “Ah, I see. A great leader, I assume.”</p><p> </p><p>“Not quite.”</p><p> </p><p>“Oh, a great warrior then?”</p><p> </p><p>Moreno almost smirked. Almost. “No. He wasn’t. Not exactly, at least. No, he was just an explorer. An astronaut. An astronaut with a heart condition.”</p><p> </p><p>Sharif furrowed his brow at her, “‘Astronaut’?”</p><p> </p><p>Either the translator was malfunctioning, or perhaps he just didn’t know the word. Perhaps it was archaic and obscure in the Compact. She might as well have said Sailing Master. “It’s an Earth word, it means ‘star sailor’. We use it to refer to people who work in space, usually explorers, or the first people who got into space.”</p><p> </p><p>Sharif frowned, “That’s interesting, but...Are you sure? That doesn’t sound right.”</p><p> </p><p>“You’ve never heard of Deke. How would you know?” Moreno growled.</p><p> </p><p>Sharif’s eyes widened, “No, no, I mean no offense, I just mean that it seems unusual for such a warlike population to name a place for such a peaceful role!” Sharif paused, then shook his head, “Pardon me, I forgot. Now it makes sense. Your explorers weren’t kind. They were armed. They fired on our ship first.”</p><p> </p><p>Moreno nearly snapped. She wanted to scream at him. She wanted to <em> gut </em> him. She realized her hands were burning from the shield.</p><p> </p><p>She blew air out through her nostrils as quietly as she could, and took her hands off the shield, “Astronauts <em> were </em> kind people. Especially when we first climbed into space. Deke Slayton wasn’t a bad man.” <em> Not that I know of anyway… </em></p><p> </p><p>Sharif grimaced, “Ms. Moreno, it must be hard to hear, but--”</p><p> </p><p>She held up a hand, “No, I <em> know </em> he wasn’t unkind. Deke Slayton was one of the first eighteen humans selected to go into space. He--”</p><p> </p><p>“Your people fired first, you must admit that.” Sharif looked at her with a poor imitation of a teacher’s disapproving look.</p><p> </p><p>Moreno’s gaze narrowed, “Yes, we <em> did </em>.”</p><p> </p><p>Sharif blinked, his expression disappeared. “So...you have to know your people were warlike.”</p><p> </p><p>“No, we’re <em> not </em>. And neither was Deke Slayton.”</p><p> </p><p>Moreno threw her arm out, “There was a statue at the spaceport. It didn’t have Deke standing on the bodies of his victims,” <em> now isn’t </em> that <em> a strange image </em> , she thought, “He was standing there in a spacesuit with his helmet under his arm, looking up at the stars. He wasn’t armed, he wasn’t violent, he was <em> hopeful </em>. He was the first chief of the Astronaut Corps, he selected the first generations of American astronauts to go into space, for our first lunar landings, for our first space stations! Does that sound like a warlike species?”</p><p> </p><p>Sharif shrugged, “Your people weren’t insane at one time--”</p><p> </p><p>Moreno bit her tongue and cursed under her breath, “Deke wasn’t-- he was one of us! He was a great man, and you’re spitting on his memory!”</p><p> </p><p>“Ms Moreno you must calm--”</p><p> </p><p>Moreno shook her head and shook her finger at him, “Being calm didn’t get my ancestors anywhere. For ten years, we’ve had to endure your people’s insults and condescension. But you don’t get to mock our <em> astronauts </em>.”</p><p>Her eyes burned with fire, “You call us weak. You call us savages. You call us primitive. You call us children. But we’ve been on your level since we got out of the gravity well. Deke wasn’t a soldier when he went into space, he was an <em> astronaut </em> for god’s sake! We didn’t bring guns or missiles into space, we brought science experiments and cameras! The Space Race was over science, not weaponry! <em> Deke Slayton wasn’t a monster </em>!”</p><p> </p><p>Sharif put his hands up, “I never said that.”</p><p> </p><p>“You were going to. You people <em> always </em> do. Because to you, we’re a bunch of weak useless savages who need the Compact’s love. But you know what? It wasn’t war that brought us into space, it was a <em> disease </em>.”</p><p>She rubbed her nose, “You just don’t get what we accomplished without your ‘help’. We got into space without you. We built a civilization without you. What have the brainwashed <em> slaves </em> under you done? There’s fewer people there than were on Earth in the 20th century.”</p><p> </p><p>Sharif shook his head, “You reached out too far too quickly. We had to curb--”</p><p> </p><p>“We stopped the Cold War without you.” Moreno snarled, “We had 80,000 warheads pointed at each other and maniacs in charge willing to risk mutually assured destruction to destroy the enemy. We could’ve wiped out the entire planet. But you know what? <em> We stopped it. </em>”</p><p> </p><p>She scowled, and pulled out her PDA. She tapped out commands, then held it up to the shield. Her hand was scarred from touching the field. “Look at that. Do you see that?”</p><p> </p><p>Sharif peered through the shimmering field. It displayed a pair of primitive spacecraft of wildly different designs docked with one another. One was bright silver, the other an ugly green.</p><p> </p><p>Moreno gestured at the PDA, “<em> That </em> is humanity. <em> That </em> is what we brought into space, not weapons. Deke Slayton was the kind of person you...people would love. He was disqualified from the program for a heart condition. His weak little heart.”</p><p> </p><p>She scowled, “But he didn’t do what you people would’ve <em> adored </em> . He did the one thing a Compact can’t forgive. He didn’t lay down to die. He worked for <em> fifteen years </em> to get back to flight status. And he was on the Apollo-Soyuz Mission, this huge detente between two nations who would’ve gladly wiped each other out! They didn’t bring weapons, they brought <em> cameras </em> ! Do you know what space travel did for <em> ending </em> the Cold War?!”</p><p> </p><p>Sharif studied the image again. The two spacecraft were frozen in time, about to dock with one another. There was a large grey module on the end of the silver spacecraft fitted to connect with the green one. Sharif wondered what it was for. He shook his head, “Ending a war among your own species is irrelevant. Even a warlike species must get squeamish about hurting their own--”</p><p> </p><p>Moreno slumped. And she started <em> laughing </em> . She couldn’t help it. It was just so <em> damned funny </em>.</p><p> </p><p>“Um…”</p><p> </p><p>Moreno shook her head, still laughing, “That doesn’t make a bit of difference, Sharif. Haven’t you ever wanted to knock out another Tribune’s teeth?”</p><p> </p><p>Sharif’s eyes flicked to Nanhar. “I--”</p><p> </p><p>Moreno waved dismissively, “Ah, forgive me, I forgot about your instincts. It’s hard to rise above those base levels.”</p><p> </p><p>Sharif’s eyes narrowed, “You insult me, Ms. Moreno. I assure you, I have never--”</p><p> </p><p>“Calm down, young man. I can’t deal with an overly-emotional negotiator.”</p><p> </p><p>“I--!” Sharif closed his mouth and forced himself to take a deep breath. “M-- Admiral Moreno, is your intention simply to infuriate me?”</p><p> </p><p>“No, unlike you. I’m trying to tell you that we’re not monsters.” There was a strange sense of tranquility over her anger as it returned. The calm before the storm. She crossed her arms, "You don't know anything about us, Mr. Sharif. We're not monsters. Do you know who our heroes are? They're not all soldiers. They're people like Jonas Salk, who made the first Polio vaccine and refused to patent it. People like Ada Lovelace, who made computers before computers existed. People like Neil Armstrong, first human on another interstellar body and felt like an imposter. People like Hyeonseo Utamara, who invented the shift drive. Our heroes are artists, scientists, inventors, explorers, liberators, revolutionaries, advocates, and yes, a few soldiers. But we're not a warlike species."</p><p> </p><p>Her voice lowered, but was just as furious as before, "My heroes aren't soldiers, they're astronauts, Mr. Sharif. My heroes are the people who tried to touch the stars, in the name of friendship and mutual understanding." She narrowed her gaze, "my heroes are the people you <em> murdered </em>. The people you killed. The people you've tried to annihilate for so many years. The people who wanted to make friends, who just wanted to talk. And you killed them."</p><p> </p><p>Sharif was floundering for a moment. Then he remembered the fact that made all the difference. He spread his hands, "Admiral, <em> you </em> fired first. That's all that matters. <em> Your </em>people are to blame."</p><p> </p><p>Moreno's eye twitched, "does it really matter? Does it matter who shot first, when Compact missiles are the ones that <em> murdered my homeworld? </em>"</p><p> </p><p>Sharif blinked, "Admiral, you don't understand--"</p><p> </p><p>"<em> Nothing </em>justifies genocide."</p><p> </p><p>"Your species had a serious diagnosis of racial insanity--"</p><p> </p><p>"Diagnosis by <em> whom </em>? Who are you to say what's insane?"</p><p> </p><p>"We're the Compact." Sharif said easily.</p><p> </p><p>"So we punch you, and you riddle us with bullets in retaliation. Most logical." She paused.  “What exactly do you mean ‘racial insanity?’ How the hell do you even diagnose a whole <em> species </em> with something?”</p><p> </p><p>“Well, you didn’t all have it, clearly.” Sharif scratched the back of his head, “You see, your ambassador explained it, it’s an environmental--”</p><p> </p><p>“And how did you determine who does and does not have it?”</p><p> </p><p>Sharif grimaced, “I’m not a biologist. A detente between your own species doesn’t matter when your race fakes peaceful detentes to inflict damage on us.”</p><p> </p><p>“What are you talking about?”</p><p> </p><p>“I’ve seen the footage,” Sharif said quietly, “Your people destroyed a Chariot.”</p><p> </p><p>He took out a PDA of his own and held it up to the admiral. It showed footage from a ship her translator said was called <em> Curse of Prophecy </em>. Much to the Compact officer’s surprise, she nodded grimly, and replied, “That wasn't a detente. We destroyed a legitimate military target.”</p><p> </p><p>The Tribune wasn’t sure what to say to that. He wanted to scream. “...I’m sorry?”</p><p> </p><p>“That <em> Kaiju </em>was fleeing our space with data of vital military importance, and was a legitimate military target that was a tremendous threat. There was no detente involved. Mr. Mason, can you list the specific war crime committed by the Compact here?"</p><p> </p><p>Mason twitched, then scrambled to look at his PDA, “Crimes include the arming of ostensibly neutral parties and active participation in military campaigns aboard legitimate military targets." He looked up, "If they weren't a legitimate target, you just admitted you did the equivalent of putting guns on an ambulance, drove it into combat as the tip of the spear of an <em> offensive </em> campaign, and are complaining that it got blown up. Furthermore, the crime of committing atrocities in response to the destruction of a legitimate military target.”</p><p> </p><p>“But...but they weren’t!” Sharif sputtered.</p><p> </p><p>“Triarchs serve military roles in combat."</p><p> </p><p>Sharif tilted his head, “Well yes, but they’re not to be killed! They can’t be killed! I presume your president isn’t meant--”</p><p> </p><p>Moreno shook her head, “Our officials may visit the front lines if they're nuts, but they are not meant to directly lead units into battle and command them to engage enemy vessels in tactical situations. Under those circumstances, a leader is a legitimate military target regardless of their species. And committing genocide in response is not an appropriate response.”</p><p> </p><p>“But not a Triarch!” Sharif exclaimed.</p><p> </p><p>“Racial discrimination is a crime under the Articles of the Compact. If they're not legitimate, then again, this is like arming an ambulance."</p><p> </p><p>Depta snarled. Sharif spun around and snapped, “Stay back!"</p><p> </p><p>The officer put her hands up and stepped back. Sharif turned back and his own eyes burned with fury. “What you say is heresy. You killed a holy figure, you...you practically killed a <em> god </em>!”</p><p> </p><p>Moreno scowled, “Funny. I thought gods couldn’t die. Let’s go over things <em> again </em> . You, a nation of thousands of stars, trillions of people, and hundreds of thousands of warships, saw fit to <em> exterminate </em> a population of less than 150 billion with a few hundred worlds and a few thousand warships who, if we're counting arithmetic, killed a few million Compact <em> soldiers. </em> And one god from a religion we hadn't even heard of. And again, a little bird told me gods can't die. But what does that matter? For a handful of people, and most importantly, your little tiny pebble, and a speck of dust, for a <em> single individual </em>, you killed a species."</p><p> </p><p>"They were all racially insane." Sharif said slowly.</p><p> </p><p>"Am I insane?" Moreno asked.</p><p> </p><p>"You're not one of them though, you're Broken."</p><p> </p><p>"I am <em> not </em>Broken," Moreno snarled, "I am Rear Admiral Nieves Moreno, a human being, of the United Earth Confederacy. I am the Navy that yes, killed your god.”</p><p> </p><p>"You used an AI!" Sharif shouted, “You killed a Triarch with an <em> AI </em>!”</p><p> </p><p>“So what?”</p><p> </p><p>“So what? So what?!” Sharif threw up his hands, “Any sensible species would know AI--”</p><p> </p><p>“Sensible as defined by <em> you </em>.”</p><p> </p><p>“Yes, any sensible--”</p><p> </p><p>“Sensible as defined by <em> you </em> ,” Moreno repeated, “Sensible as defined by <em> you </em>.”</p><p> </p><p>Sharif paused, “I don’t understand.”</p><p> </p><p>“Sensible as defined by you. What if someone defines sensible as something else?” Moreno asked.</p><p> </p><p>“We’re the Compact,” he said it like it was a major point.</p><p> </p><p>“Mr. Mason?”</p><p> </p><p>The ambassador scowled, “Compact personnel have attempted to build an AI for the last two-thousand years and killed far more people than our single AI did. Furthermore, genocide outweighs these death tolls.”</p><p> </p><p> “You don’t understand, your people just don’t have the cognitive faculties or development to understand.”</p><p> </p><p>Moreno snarled, “We created a civilization of hundreds of worlds, efficient shift drives, and weapons in the same ballpark as yours. I’d say that gives us license to debate you.”</p><p> </p><p>She paused, and frowned. She lifted her hand. Her skin was pale, but was still very clearly olive skin. Skin color made little difference to alien life, but even after so long, the horrific tales of centuries past remained.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Never again. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>Moreno looked at her hand for a long moment. “Long ago, on Earth, there was a nation known as the Inca Empire. They had terrific scientific advances for their time and a vast and powerful empire. However, at a certain point, they fell into a civil war. In the midst of this civil war, a gang of thugs from a place called Spain stumbled in and were stupidly-lucky enough to find a way to take over what remained of the empire. It was an aristocracy, so the nobility didn’t really care, and for a lot of people, it was ‘welcome the new boss, same as the old boss’. The average people just made room in the temple for the new gods.”</p><p> </p><p>She scratched her head, “The Spanish tried to get the Inca to believe in the same god, and to completely throw out their old beliefs rather than integrate them. They tried to get everyone under control, to keep them separate from their colonists. Oh, and they brought dozens of new diseases the Inca hadn’t been exposed to.”</p><p> </p><p>Moreno shook her head, “They killed <em> so many </em> people. Tens of millions. They devastated two continents with those diseases. The Spanish led a reign of terror, with millions dying from disease only partially by accident, they killed thousands more deliberately with swords, imported hundreds of thousands of slaves, and burned Inca libraries.”</p><p> </p><p>Sharif was speechless. He was horrified. “Surely...surely you can see why…”</p><p> </p><p>She glared at him, “Centuries of knowledge, of information <em> my </em> ancestors gathered, was destroyed. For five centuries this trend continued across our entire planet. The Spanish Empire, the British Empire, the Americans, the French, the Germans, the Belgians, the Portuguese, the Japanese, the Chinese-- they all tried the same thing. They toppled empires, destroyed civilizations, and attempted to annihilate entire cultures. My name is of Spanish origin, not Inca. I don’t even know anything about any of my Inca ancestors. This colonization poisoned our civilization until the 21st century. The empires collapsed after people had had enough. We held onto their cultures with both hands, regardless of what was thrown at us.”</p><p> </p><p>“Well, that’s very...I...uh…”</p><p> </p><p>Moreno’s gaze narrowed, “They tried everything they could to hold onto us. Even after the official period of colonization was gone, their fingerprints were on everything. But that's not the worst part. The colonizers invented one of the worst inventions in human history. Have you ever heard of a death camp?”</p><p> </p><p>“I--”</p><p> </p><p>“They saw people with my skin color as inferior, they spoke the same words you do. The same exact language. And they decided <em> we </em> didn’t have a right to live. That we led empty lives. 'Life unworthy of life'. Does that sound familiar, Mr. Sharif?”</p><p> </p><p>“I--!”</p><p> </p><p>“They decided we were inferior. They ‘studied’ people to prove their 'superiority', with their conclusions already drawn. They collected people and slaughtered them. They killed <em> millions </em> because of their ‘logic’.”</p><p> </p><p>“Admiral--”</p><p> </p><p>Moreno held up a hand with a scowl. She had to bite back the urge to shout. She pulled out her PDA again, and brought up several images. Images of graves appeared on a display. Skeletons being dug up by archeologists. “Does this look familiar?” Moreno pointed at the images, then put her hand to her chest once again, “Oh, or is this not good enough for you? Are you not getting this?”</p><p> </p><p>There were photos of humans in tears, holding candles and images of other humans. Sharif feared they were of the dead. A photo of stacks and stacks of paper in a dark room appeared. “They kept extensive records, Mr. Sharif. They made records of everyone they killed. They documented it. Just like your people did.”</p><p> </p><p>She pointed at Nanhar, who jumped back as if her finger shot lightning, “<em> He’s here </em> because of that. Because of your asshole bosses trying to steal <em> my </em> people’s inventions, and…” she took a breath, and made that grotesque grin once again. She put her fingers together like pincers, “Recording every <em> tiny little detail </em> of every single weapon you fired at my ancestral home. And he doesn’t even care.”</p><p> </p><p>Sharif opened his mouth to say something, then Moreno held up the device again with different images this time. Sharif slowly put the back of his hand to his mouth. “Gods…”</p><p> </p><p>It was a low-quality photo of dozens of bodies, row after row, lined up in a room. Moreno looked at the screen, then back at him, “Pardon me. That’s the Cambodian Genocide. They did the same thing.”</p><p> </p><p>Sharif tugged at his sleeve, then at his collar.</p><p> </p><p>Moreno changed the photos with a shake of her head. When she held it up, Sharif nearly gagged. Bodies were piled up like cordwood in a train car. Bodies so thin they were like skeletons. “That’s what I was looking for. It was called the Holocaust. The largest <em> intentional </em>genocide in human history.”</p><p> </p><p>She switched to an image of figures who stood behind barbed wire, with thin frames almost as thick as the wire itself. They were gaunt, pale figures, their eyes sunken in and their skin hanging off their bones. Sharif realized with horror that the previous images weren’t of bodies that had rotted over days or weeks. They could’ve been killed minutes before the photo.</p><p> </p><p>Moreno sighed. There was a tiny flicker of pity, but nowhere near the generous amounts of before. The hate returned, and those eyes burned into his very soul. “Mr. Sharif, we have experience with these horrors. What you did isn’t alien to us. You just did better than any of our own people possibly could.”</p><p> </p><p>“Your people committed those genocides,” Depta snapped, “Not us.”</p><p> </p><p>Moreno turned those burning eyes on her, like the main batteries of a Chariot. “The only reason you didn’t wipe out the entire human race was sheer luck. You almost succeeded. None of these monsters, your <em> pals </em>, ever got this far.”</p><p> </p><p>Moreno fixed her gaze forward again, “They said the same things <em> your </em> people did. You claimed we were irredeemable. Funny how much you have in common with the racially insane, isn’t it?”</p><p> </p><p>“We--” Sharif felt a surge of anger, and pointed at the device, “How dare you. How dare you? How dare you compare us to these monsters?” </p><p> </p><p>“You said it would cost too much. You said it wasn’t worth it to keep us under control. You didn’t have any other option. You had one last solution.” Moreno spat the next words like they were acid, “You had a <em> final </em>solution.”</p><p> </p><p>The other humans flinched. Sharif was befuddled, “What does that mean? What your ancestors did was wrong and unnecessary. What we did, we did because it was <em> necessary </em>.</p><p> </p><p>Moreno growled aloud, and snapped, “You did it because you <em> could </em> . You did it to throw a tantrum because the big bad humans finally hit back,” she pointed at the display, “You think your people aren’t like this? This would make your Triarchs <em> proud </em>. The more humans dead the better. They’d have cracked open the popcorn and given them more zyklon B to use! Racial insanity? How about skull shape? How about primitive thought? 'Life unworthy of living'?”</p><p> </p><p>“That’s going too far, Admiral! Our soldiers would never--!”</p><p> </p><p>“I <em>know</em> your people did,” Moreno snarled, “I know because I was <em>there</em>.” She gestured at all of her allies, “We were <em>all</em> there.”</p><p> </p><p>Sharif, astounded with horror, tilted his head, “That’s going too far, Ms. Moreno! What in the world--”</p><p> </p><p>“I was there. I fought you for over ten years. I was in the Navy when you attacked us. You dropped nerve gas on civilian targets to draw out military units. You slaughtered innocent people. You killed medics. You’d self-destruct your ships after surrendering. We never did anything to you, and yet you felt the need to use every dirty trick in the book because you <em> could </em>. You were the most dishonorable horrors we’d ever seen since the 21st century. We threw every ship we had at you, every gun, every knife, even our bare hands because we knew we couldn’t let you win.”</p><p> </p><p>Again, everyone took a step back. How was it that her fury was <em> controlled </em> up until this point? Emotions flooded through her. Emotions she’d bricked up in her mind. Her own memories, and footage recovered from helmets and gun cameras all ran into a single film reel. She saw ships on fire in the first engagements. She saw Earth’s latest battleship crash into an enemy cruiser. She saw dozens of ships throw themselves into the face of death just to give their comrades a chance to engage. She saw rioters charge janissary machine guns with rocks, knives, and fists. She saw outnumbered and outgunned squadrons of destroyers charge at the enemy just to buy civilian ships a few more minutes. She saw swarms of fighters crowd space to bury a squadron of enemy vessels in bodies. She saw troops wade through knee-deep mud in an atmosphere of nerve gas, pushing aside the remains of civilians as they fought for righteous vengeance.</p><p> </p><p>Vengeance welled up in her like a fire. “You think we’re savages? For fighting you like this? Which one of us is standing here out of time? Which one of us killed <em> billions </em> ? Which one of us <em> pulled the trigger </em>?”</p><p> </p><p>Sharif was speechless. Any argument he had was buried behind a wave of shock and horror. Not that he didn’t have them of course, but… “Death camps…”</p><p> </p><p>Moreno shook his head, “The largest genocides in human history pale in comparison to what you did. The old colonizers applaud you, Mr. Sharif. They are <em> very </em> proud. Your people did the one thing they never could.” She threw out her hands, “You nearly accomplished <em> total </em>genocide.”</p><p> </p><p>She put her hands back together, “You’re nearly finished. Why not wipe us out, and Rally too? Finish the job. The Triarchs will adore you. You’ll be decorated beyond belief. You’ll have everything you could possibly want.”</p><p> </p><p>Sharif coughed, “No, the Triarchs wouldn’t! They-- they’d be <em> horrified </em>--!”</p><p> </p><p>Moreno shook her head, “They’d be <em> glad </em> . They’d be glad we’re dead. They finally got their revenge. And embarrassment wiped from their records. Even if they showed the slightest sign of remorse, what does that matter? They say they regret it, but they still deemed us insane. They still deemed every last <em> child </em> to be irredeemably insane monsters who deserved to die. And the survivors who made it to Rally became guinea pigs for your sick revenge. They’re punishing the survivors for the destruction of a legitimate military target by a government that was virtually annihilated over 2,000 years ago. You decided we had to be punished for all eternity!”</p><p> </p><p>She threw up her hands again, “But hey! A hundred thousand people on a tiny little kaiju were avenged. But far more importantly, they got to throw a hissy fit over their one dead pal. A fair trade, isn’t it? Billions upon billions of bodies, and an entire civilization...for one creature.”</p><p> </p><p>“It wasn’t for one being,” Sharif murmured.</p><p> </p><p>Moreno narrowed her gaze, “<em> It was. </em> You killed us all because one of your bosses croaked. You <em> do </em> know humans don’t live 2,000 years, right? 2,000 years before you branded us vermin, we didn’t even have gunpowder." She paused, “Oh, and ‘vermin’ is a word that was used to refer to us humans here in this system.”</p><p> </p><p>Sharif suddenly jumped on an idea, "The Bible. Your Bible. Humans still hold onto that despite thousands of years of history. You can’t say that--"</p><p> </p><p>Moreno just shook her head, "What do I care? I'm agnostic."</p><p> </p><p>He sputtered for a moment, "Enough of this! We-- they did what they had to do!"</p><p> </p><p>"'It wasn't my fault, I was just following orders'," Moreno sneered yet again, "'They told me to, it wasn't my fault'. 'we did what we had to do'. Those words are <em> filth </em> in my world, Mr. Sharif. Those were the words used by the ones who defended the death camps. Those words were uttered by those who slaughtered my captain's ancestors.” She shook her head, “You've lost all right to speak to me outside of an entirely professional setting, not that I would when you're still wearing the insignia of murderers, and I must negotiate with you on behalf of the Confederacy."</p><p> </p><p>Sharif didn’t know what to do now. He thought they were confused, but they… those photos. Those haunting photos. <em> Service is peace. Obedience brings clarity. </em> Whatever Moreno was, <em> whoever </em> she was...she <em> wasn’t </em> Broken. Broken were quiet, polite, and well-behaved. Certainly Sharif knew about defiant humans, Adrianna Leblanc namely, but Unbound humans were so crude in their anger. They lashed out at everyone, like many Unbound who escaped the Compact, just trying to find an outlet for their pain. Their rage, their anger, their defiance was so crude. Their club of defiance was swung with an untrained hand.</p><p> </p><p>This sort of defiance was a soldier skilled with a sword. It was a particle beam, not a wildfire. Directed, controlled, and far more devastating. These were not the same indebted people without a past and a single planet to their name. But who else could they be? These humans didn’t like to be pushed around. How did this many non-compliant humans gather together? There was no reverential fear, no defying of an elder race, this was the defiance of...of...</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Service is peace. Obedience brings clarity. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>He didn’t understand. He just didn’t understand. Clients were better than they said. He <em> knew </em> that. But why? Why <em> this </em> ? The photos continued to haunt him as he and Moreno looked at each other. He knew...he’d <em> known </em> what they’d done. It had been necessary. He’d seen the footage. He <em> knew </em> they had to be destroyed.</p><p> </p><p>Children. They’d killed children. Billions of them. Compact soldiers had…</p><p> </p><p><em> No! We had to! </em>He’d been angry about it before, their overly-firm hand. Yet he knew exceptions had to be made, but...</p><p> </p><p>He’d never really thought about it before. He always thought of that video feed, of the bloodthirsty humans who wouldn't surrender. He hadn't thought about the little ones, or if he did, they were just smaller monsters. But those poor children from the <em> Carmen </em>, those terrified children...they were kids from Rally, weren’t they? Sure they were smaller than Tribune children, and less well-behaved, but they were children nonetheless. Just kids who deserved a fair shot, just kids. He couldn’t believe what Moreno was implying. they couldn’t really be the same ones they’d massacred--</p><p> </p><p>...Massacred--</p><p> </p><p>Massacre--</p><p> </p><p>Massacre.</p><p> </p><p>Sharif stumbled for a second. He touched a hand to his head. His vision swam. He heard Depta’s voice behind him, and that alien voice in front of him. Just children? If those human children were anything like those on Rally...<em> What have we done? </em></p><p> </p><p>That old woman’s screams ran through his mind. <em> We didn’t do anything to you! We just wanted to be left alone! </em></p><p> </p><p>He looked at Moreno again. That little creature, with blunt teeth, no claws, a squashed face, no strength, nothing impressive. How could they have hurt the Compact? How could they have done such terrible things? Yet he’d seen what they’d done to his own people, laughing as Tribunes begged for mercy, leaving horrific markers with “<em> you’re next </em> ” written on the skulls, destroying lifepods that tried to surrender… But what if his own people’s desperation reflected theirs? She admitted they’d done terrible things to themselves. And she was <em> disgusted </em>by them. How could that be? The old humans were monsters, terrible things. They had to be destroyed, didn’t they? </p><p> </p><p>He couldn’t get those images out of his mind. What’s more, he couldn’t separate what the humans had done to their own people from what he had done to hers.</p><p> </p><p> He-- <em> I’m not a murderer. I didn’t do it! I didn’t do it! </em> “Admiral, you’re talking about decisions made two-thousand years ago. Those people--”</p><p> </p><p>Moreno again imitated the words of all the monsters throughout history, “'We didn't do it, others did', 'someone else did it, but we didn't know it was happening', 'we did it but other people told us to do it'. They all say that.”</p><p>She pointed at his chest with a clenched jaw, “I don’t care that you didn’t do it. Why? Because you’re standing there <em> defending it </em>.”</p><p> </p><p>She put up her hands for a moment and turned her head, “But let’s say I had some sympathy. Even so…” she looked at him again with those burning eyes. He felt like he was getting a radiation burn already. “Some of the people who did it still remain. he Triarchs who did it are still around. The same ones who ordered the deaths of everyone I knew are still around, drinking their champagne. We barely managed to survive, and if they find out who we really are, they’re going to kill us, dump the debris into the sun, slap a bunch of medals on you, and probably delete us from their memories.” She paused, and looked at him, “They’re going to kill you too, you know.”</p><p> </p><p>“That’s enough!” Depta snapped. She pointed a finger at the admiral, “Stop talking about the Triarchs, you <em> Broken </em>! You have no idea what you’re talking about!”</p><p> </p><p>Moreno glowered at her, “What kind of a person orders the death of a species? What kind of a person puts billions of people to death because they’re different? We put those kinds of people on trial where I’m from. We <em> certainly </em> don’t put them on a pedestal and give them everything they want.”</p><p> </p><p>“The Triarchs made a hard decision--”</p><p> </p><p>Kaitet scowled, and spoke for the first time in a while, “They killed my family’s ancestor for no reason. They stripped him of all his titles and lied to us because the damned Triarchs were throwing a tantrum. We have the proof.”</p><p> </p><p>“No, you don’t. You have a bunch of fabrications--”</p><p> </p><p>"Fabrications?" Moreno laughed. “They’re your records.”</p><p> </p><p>She chuckled again, and rubbed the bridge of her nose, supporting her arm with the other, “Oh, who am I kidding?” Moreno let her arms drop and looked at the two Compact officers, “There are so many more things I could say. So many arguments, moving speeches, and shrieks of rage I could give, and not a single one would move you. You've made your minds up since the day you were born.” She glared at Depta, then moved her gaze to Sharif, “You're brainwashed, Sharif."</p><p> </p><p>"No, I'm not!” Sharif snapped, “I'm different from the others, Admiral. One of my academy peers would've blown you out of the sky! I’m your only hope of getting out of this alive!"</p><p> </p><p>"A choice between slavery and death is no choice at all. We’d rather die free than get under your boot heel.” She glared at him, “If you really think you’re different, then burn that uniform before it seeps into your soul. Before you <em> really </em> become a murderer. Everyone has a choice.”</p><p> </p><p>Sharif tugged at his collar and fidgeted with his sleeve again.</p><p> </p><p>Moreno pointed at him, “If you're different? If you're <em> really </em> different? Let us go. Call off your ships. If you're extremely different, you'll join the Shades and try to overthrow the Triarchs. And if you're <em> really </em> a good man, you'd know what you're doing is wrong. And you'll <em> die </em>before you let the Compact advance any further. Because resisting them is the right thing to do. And if you can't see that I'm afraid you're blind."</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>Sharif didn't speak for a long moment as he continued to seethe. He glanced at Depta. Whatever The Patron did had been serious. He struggled through the sea of unease and doubt Moreno had put him in. He tried to restart in his mind, despite the horrors. The Patron had reeducated them, and filled their minds with...<em> are they lies? </em> A little voice in his mind picked at his ideological center. <em> What if you're wrong? </em> Moreno looked at him with such fury, and such <em> hatred </em>. He knew client races weren't irrational. They weren't animals. What had happened was--</p><p> </p><p>He froze again. Wrong? It wasn't wrong. It couldn't be. It was necessary. It hadn't been him. He hadn't done it. Why was he apologizing for people who were long gone? <em> What did we ever do to you? </em> Carmody's voice rang loud in his mind.  They'd fired first, refused to surrender, and killed a Triarch. Wasn't that enough? And yet he couldn't find anything else to say that he couldn't hear in Moreno's sneering voice.</p><p> </p><p>He realized they’d been talking this whole time.</p><p> </p><p>"It wasn't genocide!" Depta shouted. </p><p> </p><p>"Then find a way to say it without justifying the deaths of billions!" Ambassador Mason said.</p><p> </p><p>“You don’t know what you’re talking about!” Nanhar barked.</p><p> </p><p>Kaitet rubbed the bridge of her nose. The aides on both sides were backing up to reach the walls, as if attempting to escape.</p><p> </p><p>Moreno shook her head, put her hands in her pockets, and turned around, "I’m sorry Ambassador, I can’t be here anymore. There's no reasoning with <em> monsters. </em>"</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>Sharif turned on his heel and exited as well. The others remained behind to complete the screaming match. He moved to a common room set aside for the diplomatic party to use, empty for now. He found a container of water left on a table, poured some into a glass, and drank quickly. </p><p> </p><p>When he lowered the cup, he noticed a blotch of something dark on his sleeve. His eyes went wide and he went over to the common room’s bathroom. Sharif turned on the sink and furiously scrubbed at the stain on the cheap fabric.</p><p> </p><p>When he finally got it out, another appeared on his upper sleeve. As he looked down, another appeared on the front of his tunic. He felt a tingling in his nose. Sharif touched his nose, then looked up at the mirror. His head twitched back, and he noticed the stain under his nostrils. He grabbed some gauze from the bathroom medical kit, he didn’t trust the minor wound spray. Sharif held the gauze to his face, moved to push the door open, and stopped. He took the gauze away and looked at the blood staining it.</p><p> </p><p>In the silence of the chamber, he could almost hear the blood dripping to the floor.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>Nosebleed. It's just a nosebleed...</em>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Songs are: Men of Harlech, La Marseillaise, Die Wacht Am Rhein, Yo Way Yo from the series Lexx, Shai Hulud by Julia Ecklar, and the East is Red.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0019"><h2>19. Yo Way Yo</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>"They sang an ancient song, in a long lost language, handed<br/>down by their ancestors.  A song the Brunnen-G always sang, when they went into battle, expecting to die.<br/>'Yo Way Yo, Home Va-Ray,<br/>Yo Ay-Rah, Jerhume Brunnen-G<br/>Yo Way Yo, Home Va-Ray,<br/>Yo Ay-Rah, Jerhume Brunnen-G<br/>Yo Ay-Rah, Jerhume Brunnen-G."<br/>- Lexx, "Brigadoom"</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>The small starship zipped away from the cruiser, back toward shock limits. They’d shock back to the fleet out in interstellar space, and figure out what to do next. Sharif sat in his quarters typing a report.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span> Column Leader Depta entered, “Sir? What’s our next plan?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“We’ll get the fleet, and try to talk to them again,” Sharif said quietly, still typing.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Ah...yes sir.” She glanced around the small chamber, “Column Leader Prime, with all due respect, are you alright?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“The medic said I didn’t hit my head that hard, I’m alright,” Sharif said dismissively.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Very well…” Depta frowned, “Do you mind if I sit down?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Please.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Depta sat down on the bunk. “Column Leader Prime, if you don’t mind me asking, how did you get stationed in the Kaedan Vault? For someone from your family…”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Sharif glanced at her, “Bold questioning.” Depta winced. He noticed. “I assume you’re wondering how I got out here with this attitude.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Some officers would have me spaced for talking like this.</span>
  </em>
  <span> The officer thought. “I mean no disrespect, sir. I’m just curious, especially considering your reaction.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Sharif sat back in his seat, “Don’t tell me it doesn’t disturb you too.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I try not to think about it. But it’s because of people like us that others can sleep at night.” Not that Depta thought about the human genocide at all. It wasn’t like they were really aware.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You saw her. You saw…”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“She’s a genetic throwback. Most of their aggression has been bred out of them, but you know how things are. Some people slip through the cracks. Hell, maybe whoever raised her wanted a more aggressive pet.” Depta furrowed her brow, “Perhaps this was another scheme by The Patron to distract us.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Sharif nodded, “It’s possible.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Depta scratched her head, “Seems the most likely to me. I mean, if those weren’t fake images, it would certainly fit. That Broken can’t hope to match what her ancestors could do.” She scowled, “You heard the way she was talking about the </span>
  <em>
    <span>Bringer of Light</span>
  </em>
  <span>.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Genetic throwback…” Sharif frowned, “Hm. Perhaps they don’t remember Rally because some of them were never there.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Depta tilted her head, “Excuse me, sir?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“The Patron, whoever they are, has huge amounts of resources, bigger than your average pirate group, but not enough to reveal themselves...and even a handful of unbroken humans can be a tremendous threat.” Sharif thought out loud for a moment. Then his eyes widened. “Column Leader, I believe we’re dealing with a mixture of kidnappees and </span>
  <em>
    <span>vat-grown Broken</span>
  </em>
  <span>.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Depta blinked.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Think about it! There are no records we can find, and none of those humans have been acting right. They’re too different and too conspicuous to have come from </span>
  <em>
    <span>just</span>
  </em>
  <span> kidnappees. The way they acted-- no Broken from Rally would even think of acting like that! They’ve either created replicas, or rebuilt old warships they found, filled them with artificially-grown humans, or raised them outside normal human spaces. I suggest the artificial theory considering how many years this would have to last. It can’t be a simple company. Whoever The Patron is…” He shook his head, “We need to find out who they are immediately.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Depta wanted to say it was madness, but the Column Leader Prime had been(mostly) right so far, except for the negotiations. Whatever was happening, it went deep. “I wonder how they fabricated so much of that information…”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Suddenly both of their personal devices chirped, “</span>
  <em>
    <span>Command personnel to the command deck.</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Both rushed out the door and down the short corridor to the command deck. A junior officer reported, “Column Leader, Column Leader Prime, we’re picking up several Shockpoints within seven-thousand kilometers.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Do we have any identification yet?” Depta asked.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Momentarily, they’re just emerging. We’re counting several squadrons-worth. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>A scopes operator called out, “ID confirmed! It’s one of ours! It looks like an entire execution force.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Sharif and Depta looked at each other in alarm. The fleet was supposed to await their orders. What were they doing shocking into the edge of the system? “Put the scopes on the main display!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The first junior officer realized she hadn’t done so, and quickly did it. A small execution force was forming up on the edge of the system.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“We’re being hailed by the battleship </span>
  <em>
    <span>Prideful Presumption</span>
  </em>
  <span>.” their communications officer called out.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I will take it,” Sharif said, and touched his earpiece, “This is Column Leader Prime Sharif to </span>
  <em>
    <span>Prideful Presumption</span>
  </em>
  <span>.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Sharif, this is Bastion Leader Submissive Mandias Ghred Emho Danis Qitsai Vred, commanding Execution Force Oesh.</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Sharif froze, “Mandias.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Sir?” Depta asked, and he waved at her irritably.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Sharif, good to hear your voice. How are you today?</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Sharif’s breath quickened, and he turned away from the crew, “I’m fine. What are you doing here, Bastion Leader Submissive?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Approach our hangar and I’ll explain. Don’t worry about your fleet, I’ve already ordered them to shock in momentarily. I can explain later, I have an announcement to make.</span>
  </em>
  <span>” The line cut and Sharif resisted the urge to throw his earpiece. He ordered the helm to make for the battleship, before what Mandias said processed.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Column Leader Prime, they’re sending a system-wide transmission,” reported the communications officer.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Let’s hear it!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>A window opened on the viewscreen. Mandias on her bridge with her hands folded in her lap. “</span>
  <em>
    <span>Hail, rebel factions. This is Bastion Leader Submissive Mandias Ghred Emho Danis Qitsai Vred of Execution Force Oesh. Your rebellion is at an end. You will surrender immediately or face deadly force.</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Sharif groaned under his breath, </span>
  <em>
    <span>Mandias, you </span>
  </em>
  <span>idiot</span>
  <em>
    <span>...</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>
  <strong>
    <span>XXXXX</span>
  </strong>
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>
  <span>General quarters sounded aboard the </span>
  <em>
    <span>Vanguard</span>
  </em>
  <span>. Almost four times the Compact ships the humans expected and the Shades had promised, were detected shifting in on the edge of the system. About two days before they were scheduled to come in.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Captain Mrowka sipped her "coffee". </span>
  <em>
    <span>Well, this was unexpected</span>
  </em>
  <span>. She looked at the inside, then exchanged a look with Commander Rivera. "You'd think the universe would have its fun with us and then just leave us alone."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"You'd think, right?" Rivera inquired, "This doesn't make sense. That's a lot of resources out there, we didn't see any deployments this big during the war until they hit Pavlov's Station."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Pavlov's Station had been one of the UEC's outer fortress worlds. The Navy had thrown together every resource they had in the area in a long siege to halt the enemy in their tracks. It was a crucial victory in the early stages of the war. It was also where the Compact first deployed battleships against humanity.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Mrowka sipped her cup again. She eyed the contacts that represented enemy battleships. "That's a lot of ships. Either they're losing a battle against the royals out there just to get us, or something has changed. They're a bunch of liars, but even liars have to obey material laws."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Rivera studied the displays. "Yes ma'am. Realistically, we couldn't have seen this coming."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Mrowka drained her mug and let her hand fall to her side. And her eyes filled with determination. "Alright. Let's roll."</span>
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>
  <strong>
    <span>XXXXX</span>
  </strong>
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>
  <span>About an hour later, the small Compact starship was docked in the battleship’s main hangar. Sharif and Depta strode out of the main airlock onto a docking arm, the picture of professional anger. However, the column leader couldn’t help but admire the inside of the hangar. This was a brand-new battleship, not the second-rate rear-echelon warships the Kaedan Vault was given. Though formidable, and not quite obsolete, the Kaedan Vault was pretty far down the supply chain. This warship should’ve been out fighting the Principality, not mopping up pirates. Depta opened her mouth to say something to her superior, but she noticed the look on his face.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Sharif was </span>
  <em>
    <span>very </span>
  </em>
  <span>upset</span>
  <em>
    <span>.</span>
  </em>
  <span> She followed his gaze toward the figure at the end of the docking arm. Bastion Leader Submissive Mandias stood there with a massive smirk on her face. The pair approached, saluted, and the superior returned the salutes. “Greetings.” She spread her arms, “...and welcome to the </span>
  <em>
    <span>Prideful Presumption</span>
  </em>
  <span>.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Greetings...</span>
  <em>
    <span>ma’am</span>
  </em>
  <span>,” Sharif said, with a forceful effort to not grind his teeth, “What brings you here?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Orders, Sharif. Someone has to clean up this mess.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“With all due respect, Mandias, my last orders from sector command gave me the discretion to operate here. I had the situation under control.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Mandias’ grin grew, “Sector command thought you could use some help, my friend!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She moved closer, and Depta realized the other Tribune was tall. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Very </span>
  </em>
  <span>tall. And very large. She was larger than either of them. She was the tallest Tribune she’d ever met, come to think of it. “If I may? You’ll have to forgive us, ma’am, we didn’t know you were coming.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Mandias grinned at her, “Orders changed pretty quick. This was the fastest way to alert you.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She drew closer, and Depta found herself looking up. She was so </span>
  <em>
    <span>big</span>
  </em>
  <span>…</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Sharif suppressed a sigh, “Mandias-- Bastion Leader Submissive, do you have orders for us? What is going on?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“All in good time, Sharif. What’s your status?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“We were just coming back from negotiations with the Blue Avians and the Shade Flotilla. Or rather, just the Blue Avians. The Shade Flotilla misunderstood our message and deferred to the Broken. It is possible they wanted to speak to us as well, but they didn’t particularly feel inclined to talk to us. We were returning to the fleet to try talking to them again.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Mandias nodded, her grin never seemed to disappear. “By the book, Sharif. As usual. Our orders are to eliminate this problem as quickly as possible. We’ll move in, tell them to stop, and if they don’t, we’ll take ‘em all into custody.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“There’s more--”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Mandias put her arm around Sharif’s shoulder, pushed Depta along, and started walking them toward a door to a corridor, “I can read it later, Sharif. C’mon, we won’t get within range until this afternoon. Lighten up! What’s new with you? How’s your mate?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’m divorced and that’s none of your business--”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Depta spoke up, “Bastion Leader Submissive, if I may? Negotiations were very unusual. The Blue Avians attempted to speak with us as if they were a nation. An ancient human nation.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Mandias stopped, and blinked at her, “Huh. How odd.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Sharif struggled out from her grip, “Yes, it’s odd. What else is odd is you showing up here. We had everything under control until you came in here. We’re dealing with some </span>
  <em>
    <span>extremely</span>
  </em>
  <span> sensitive matters here!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Calm down, Sharif--”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Bastion Leader Submissive, please! Nanhar is unstable as it is, the client races are prone to being provokable, and you just stormed in here completely unscheduled! We had an arrangement, and </span>
  <em>
    <span>you</span>
  </em>
  <span> have broken that arrangement! They barely trust my word as it is, and you have just completely damaged our negotiations!” Sharif breathed heavily. He had kept his voice as low as possible, but workers were starting to look over.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Depta looked at her superior with shock and horror, her eyes wide. As familiar as they could be, even she would never </span>
  <em>
    <span>dream</span>
  </em>
  <span> of shouting at an officer like that. She couldn’t believe Sharif had just said that. He’d just shouted at a superior. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Wait a minute, what did he say about Nanhar?</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Mandias’ grin faded a bit, and she touched Sharif’s shoulder gently. “Come on, Sharif, come with me,” she said softly. She jerked her head to Depta as well. The column leader followed them into a hallway, and a pilot ready room.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Once the door was shut, Sharif rounded on the Bastion Leader Submissive, “Ma’am, please, I--”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She looked down at him and spoke rapidly, “Things have changed. Sector Command doesn’t care about the Blue Avians and the Shade Flotilla anymore. The blockade ships are needed elsewhere, and so we need these people out of the way </span>
  <em>
    <span>fast</span>
  </em>
  <span>."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Sharif balked, "What? What happened? How... what's going on? What are you even doing here with your brand new ships? I thought you were supposed to be fighting the jackals!"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"I told you, things have changed!"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Like what--?"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Mandias dropped her grin for once, "There's a ceasefire with the Principality. We're signing an armistice."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Sharif and Depta looked at the large female. Sharif's mouth hung open. "What?"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Mandias rested her arm on a piece of furniture and looked apprehensive, perhaps even nervous. "They're signing an armistice. Right now. Or...well, you know how long these things take. But we've got new orders. We're pulling back from the front lines. Our orders in this area are to secure the borders and reorganize. That means dealing with threats we didn't have the ships to deal with earlier. We've got to clear the lanes while we can. I don't believe for a minute this peace will last, but we gotta do what we can while we have the time." She looked between the two of them, "New fleet deployments are being planned too. That's another reason we gotta clear the lanes. We haven't heard anything solid, but the rumors are flowing like crazy. Something happened at Galhemna. Something really bad."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"What?" Depta asked, "If it's not the Principality…"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Mandias shrugged, "They're not telling us much, or at least we didn't get anything on our way out here. Something's out there that can kill chariots, and it isn't us or the Principality. We need room to redeploy against whatever the hell this thing is, and we need every ship we can get. We can't have anyone like these upstarts bothering us."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>They were quiet for a long time. Sharif scratched his head, "Nanhar won't go down without a fight, Mandias, you know that."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"I know. That's part of why they sent </span>
  <em>
    <span>me </span>
  </em>
  <span>along. You and I might be able to talk him out of his hole. If we can get them to surrender, we can avoid further loss of life."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Sharif rubbed his face. Not just a ceasefire, but an </span>
  <em>
    <span>armistice!</span>
  </em>
  <span> Whatever happened to Galhemna must've been </span>
  <em>
    <span>big</span>
  </em>
  <span>. "What do we do if he doesn't listen?"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"We're trying to save ships, but Command would prefer that the problem go away more than they care about how many ships we lose."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Sharif blinked, then scowled. He didn't speak what was on his mind.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Mandias smiled a little, her grin returning, "Come on, Sharif, this won't last long with what we've got."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Sharif looked off into the distance for a moment. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Billions upon billions of bodies, and an entire civilization...for one creature.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>"I am the Navy that yes, killed your god."</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He nodded stiffly, "Yes, ma'am."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Mandias tilted her head. "Alright, I'll have my aide show you to your quarters. Then we can meet up for dinner and you can explain exactly what happened over there. I want more than a report.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Depta blinked in surprise. Sharif sighed, “Yes, ma’am.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Dismissed.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>They rendered the Compact salute, then departed. Mandias’ aide sent them quarter assignments on their devices, and they started walking toward the guest officers’ quarters.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Sir, with all due respect...where is the Bastion Leader Submissive from?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Hm? Oh, she’s from a space colony. One of the old pre-Compact ones. You know how their kind is with personal space.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Ah.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>They walked to an elevator and climbed in. The doors shut, and Depta gave her superior a sidelong glance. “Again, with all due respect, sir, you seemed to know her. Did you two used to have a relationship or some--?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“There are worse postings than the Kaedan Vault, Column Leader,” Sharif growled.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“...thing like a graduating class together?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Good save.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>
  <span>They went to their separate quarters and returned to brief Mandias. Sharif gave what was necessary, no more, no less. He caught Mandias looking at him during the meeting. It was an odd expression, but at least it was an odd Tribune expression, not a Broken expression.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She dismissed Depta once the meeting was finished, but had him hang back. She gave him her trademark grin, but only a degree of it, “You don’t seem your usual cheerful annoyed self!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Ma’am…”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Mandias nudged him, “Oh come on, Sharif, something’s bothering you. What’d Nanhar say? He’s not still making fun of you for the door incident, is he?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“It wasn’t him,” Sharif mumbled.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Mandias raised an eyebrow, then chuckled sadly, “You know Clients are irrational. I hate to say I told you so…” She trailed off at his expression. "Sharif, c'mon, why don't you go and see a confessor? You've got that 'I'm traumatized and confused' expression you get."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Sharif shook his head weakly, "No, I'm fine…"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Do you want me to make it an order?" She grinned.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Sharif gave a put-upon sigh, "Yes, Bastion Leader Prime."</span>
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>
  <span> He walked through the battleship to the equivalent of a chapel/political department office. The section was built like a doctor's office, with a secretary desk, and some offices in wings to either side. There were many confessors for a ship so large. Sharif spoke briefly with the secretary. There were several more prestigious confessors recommended for officers, but Sharif found that the more moderate figures, not brand new and not too experienced and prestigious, were more reliable. Confessors were supposed to be objective, but for someone like Sharif, that wasn't always the case. One wouldn't understand, the other might not care, and both might be more interested in his rank or family name than his troubles.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Sharif thanked the secretary and walked down the wing to the door of the confessor he'd selected and knocked.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Come in!"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span> The woman was a Thoughtful, but that didn’t matter all that much. All he needed was </span>
  <em>
    <span>somebody</span>
  </em>
  <span> to light this fog in his mind. She sat at a desk with her hands put together. Her office was very much standard, the various odds, and ends of her position on either side and a few chairs before her desk. When she went to stand, he motioned for her to stay seated. The being did so, and smiled, “I’m surprised, sir, I don’t normally have anyone come to see me, of your stature I mean.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Sharif nodded a bit numbly, “Yes, I’m sure you don’t get many people like myself.” He took one of the seats, and sat with hands clasped between his legs, looking at the ground, “I don’t normally see confessors. It all balances out.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Ah, the universe has a way of doing that, doesn’t it? The currents and eddies of spacetime, it’s all one great river.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>For a moment, Sharif wondered if this was a good idea. For a moment, he wanted to leave, to sleep, to do </span>
  <em>
    <span>something</span>
  </em>
  <span> else, but couldn’t think of what. He just had this nagging feeling he had to, or wanted to be elsewhere, and yet he couldn’t go. His insides felt like a percussion instrument made to produce a ratchet sound. He wanted to be somewhere else, wanted to do something, but there was nothing </span>
  <em>
    <span>to</span>
  </em>
  <span> do. Nothing but talk to this person who was only there to help him. He felt like he was falling and he needed someone to catch him, someone to pull his ocean castaway out of the water and back into a boat where things made sense, and for a brief instant, a confessor seemed like the farthest thing from that. He rubbed his eyes as she looked at him patiently and expectantly.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“When was the last time you got any sleep, Sharif?” the confessor asked gently.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He shrugged a bit, almost like a teenager. He kicked himself mentally; seeing Nanhar and Mandias again must’ve brought some old habits back. “I’m not sure.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Well, whatever the problem is, that might have something to do with it.”</span>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Sharif glanced at her, “Where does death fall in that great river of the universe?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The confessor blinked, “That’s a very loaded question.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Well, I’m feeling a bit...loaded myself.” At least with a confessor, he could usually be himself. His mind was bad enough right now without having to worry about protocol. “I’ve been feeling terrible since negotiations.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“That happens when dealing with client races. What happened? I heard about the negotiations. I hope you at least negotiated with--”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I was speaking with a human.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The Thoughtful stopped, “...Ah. The Broken. What’s one of those doing out here?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Sharif glanced at her, “Don’t you know?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The Thoughtful female’s expression made him wince. It was one reason he was wary of confessors. She narrowed her gaze, “It was just a question.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He didn’t know what she knew. That was fine. Sharif looked back at his hands, “I spoke with one of them. Rear Admiral Nieves Moreno.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Huh. I would’ve thought a pirate would go for a more grandiose title,” The confessor smiled a little.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Sharif nodded, “That’s what I thought. I thought she was a normal Broken too. But there was something about her.” shouting at him was one thing, “Something about her and the rebels. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Did she threaten you? Insult you?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He shook his head, “No. She...she made some rather strange claims. I think she got into my head a bit. But it wasn’t that she manipulated me, no...I have questions that weren’t because of her.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The Thoughtful frowned, “You were troubled before?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“No,” Sharif snarled, and whipped his head up to glare at her, “I wasn’t. Everything was a neat little box. A box of cubes. But it’s like they were a box of cubes surrounding something. She knocked off the cubes and uncovered something that was buried inside.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He explained to her what happened, with the gruesome details. He spoke of the death camps, of the conquests on Earth, and the victims of atrocities. “...And I thought it was because they have the right context, but...it’s like they had the correct context and </span>
  <em>
    <span>didn’t care</span>
  </em>
  <span>. I was being merciful, I didn’t want to hurt them because I thought they were just confused, but they don’t </span>
  <em>
    <span>seem</span>
  </em>
  <span> confused. Nothing I said surprised them. Nothing I said confused them.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The confessor tilted her head. “They're irrational people. They’re primitive and less evolved.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Are they?” Sharif snapped. The confessor blinked at the look in his eyes. “I don’t know what they are!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“They’re Broken, that’s who they are,” the confessor said firmly, “Nothing more, nothing less.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I disagree,” Sharif mumbled, then cleared his throat, “They’re strange. They’re nothing like what Rallyians are supposed to be like. Their leader has… an attitude problem.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The confessor sighed, and rested her chin on her hand, “I expect there will be some changes in policies once our reports get back to Rally. Did she dare to say these things in front of you? About you? By the Triarchs, her mind will be studied for decades. She sounds like some sort of evolutionary throwback.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Saying that sort of thing was something that angered her.” Sharif stood up and started pacing, “Whatever they are, wherever they’re from, they’re not quite Broken. Broken are well-behaved, and polite.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The confessor frowned, “It is curious. From what you’ve told me, she and her companion were relatively polite, but also stubborn and defiant at the same time. Reasonable demands to surrender were met with anger and bile. They can’t be the beings they claim to be, of course, that politeness--”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“They called a Triarch a legitimate military target,” Sharif said.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The confessor’s eyes narrowed, “And how did you respond?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“As anyone would. I tried to explain, but...they seemed to be angry I considered them to </span>
  <em>
    <span>not</span>
  </em>
  <span> be legitimate targets. They said that their own leaders were legitimate targets if they lead units into combat.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Obviously. Those are the basic rules of war. But not a Triarch!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Sharif nodded, “Yes, I know! As I tried to explain, but…” he scratched his head, “There’s something else.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Something else? How could anything be worse than that?” the confessor demanded.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Their anger. I’ve seen angry people before. I read psychology reports on Unbound Broken. They lash out at everyone, like many Unbound who flee the Compact, just trying to find an outlet for their pain. Yet their rage and anger are crude. Their club of defiance is swung with an untrained hand.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The confessor nodded, “Certainly, without their moral compasses they’re going to be confused. Without the Compact, you’re going to have significant psychological problems.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Sharif nodded. Everyone knew that fact. “Yet these people were acting differently. They weren’t acting like we were some parent coming to get their misbehaving child, they were acting like...like...</span>
  <em>
    <span>Tribunes</span>
  </em>
  <span>!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The confessor furrowed her brow, “What?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Sharif nodded, and threw up his hands, “It’s baffling! Mad! But their anger was different, they acted as if they knew us. As if we were a relative they hadn’t seen before. The sort of relative you don’t care for.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The confessor frowned, “Go on.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Sharif kept pacing, “This sort of defiance of theirs wasn’t a club. It was a soldier skilled with a sword. It was a particle beam, not a wildfire. Directed, controlled, and far more devastating.” As he spoke, he stopped, lifted his hand, extended his index finger, rotated his hand forward, and moved the whole arm in the same direction mimicking an energy weapon.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What’s the difference, exactly? Please elaborate.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He went back to pacing. “They know </span>
  <em>
    <span>how</span>
  </em>
  <span> to hate. They know their target. They know what they’re doing. They’re not confused, they don’t seem like they’re lashing out. It’s like someone prepared a script, it’s like...like…”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Like what?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Like they remember they have a past,” Sharif murmured. He stopped pacing again, and put a hand to his chin, “Who </span>
  <em>
    <span>are</span>
  </em>
  <span> they? They didn’t like to be ordered around. How the heck did this many non-compliant humans gather together?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The confessor grimaced, “Sir, it seems as if they’re heretics. I’m curious, your methods appear to be very soft. They’ve worked in the past, but perhaps, for now, it requires a firmer hand.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Sharif shook his head and snapped, “</span>
  <em>
    <span>No</span>
  </em>
  <span>.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The Thoughtful put up her hands, “Pardon me, sir. I’m sorry. I only suggested--”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He spun around and grabbed the chair, “Don’t talk about that again. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Ever</span>
  </em>
  <span>.” As he spoke, the back of the chair creaked loudly. Sharif winced, and immediately all hostility vanished. He gingerly lifted the chair, its back bent out of shape. “Uh…I’m sorry, I--”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Don’t worry about it. Take the other seat.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Sharif sat down heavily, “I’m sorry. I just...you wouldn’t believe how often I heard that at the academy.” He rubbed his hands together and looked at the floor, “It wasn’t what I expected, but wasn’t completely unexpected either.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The confessor frowned, “Sir, how did you get this assignment? If you don’t mind me saying, it seems to be causing you a great deal of stress.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Sharif snorted, still looking at the floor, “Being a good officer.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He shook his head, “I can’t get them out of my head. I was taught that killing is necessary for self-defense, or as a means to end a war, but this...something’s wrong and I don’t know what,” he tapped the side of his head for emphasis, “I can’t make sense of all this! I </span>
  <em>
    <span>need</span>
  </em>
  <span> to make sense of all this!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Sir, perhaps you’re overthinking this--”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Sharif wasn’t listening, he put his thumb to his chin, “Someone wants us doubting ourselves. Someone wants us thinking like this. Someone wants those humans to be terrified, to hate us so much that we are forced to hate them, to make us try and kill them for something done so long ago! It’s not their fault, but I can’t understand what’s happening! I </span>
  <em>
    <span>know</span>
  </em>
  <span> there’s something bigger at play, I just know it, but I can’t figure out what! It’s maddening! Moreno wasn't acting, she honestly believed--"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>His eyes went wide, "Oh no."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Sir?" The confessor asked.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Sharif covered his mouth, "No, it couldn't be...it's just not possible!"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"What's not possible, sir?" The Thoughtful asked.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"I know what's wrong with them. I know why they're different. Why didn't we see it before?" Sharif shrugged, "Well it sounds ridiculous when you say it out loud…"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"What is wrong with them, sir?" The confessor inquired.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Sharif looked at her, "I know what's wrong with them. It's the disease."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>You could hear a pin drop in the office. The Thoughtful looked at him, "... Excuse me?"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Someone's brought back the genetic disease that infected their species." The confessor just stared at him. Sharif nodded, "I know, it sounds mad, but there's little else I can see! Furthermore, I think it's worse than just infecting humans."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"What could be worse than that?" The confessor asked slowly.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Sharif made a finger-snapping gesture, making no noise, "This Patron, whoever is funding them, I'm still not sure what their final goal is. But I think this plague, I think they want it to jump species. They want a bioweapon that doesn't kill, they want racial insanity to spread to other species."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"How would that work? Racial insanity is genetic, the fault of--"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"We don't know everything there is to know about the universe," Sharif said, "I've heard a theory about a disease that can hide in the body's memory engrams, avoiding the natural immune system of even a Tribune. Other sorts of disease that make you act normal until you're infected and seeking out others. They say ships get taken over and, and, and--"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The confessor raised an eyebrow, "Are you sure researching theoretical possibly non-existent diseases is good for your mental health? This may be a little paranoid. You're only going to upset yourself if you go to the trouble of memorizing every strange disease we can imagine."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"It's not paranoia. This is entirely possible. Every new world we find brings us a whole new way to look at the universe. Why </span>
  <em>
    <span>wouldn't </span>
  </em>
  <span>this be possible? I just can't understand why…"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The confessor rubbed her face. "Sir, with all due respect, this sounds a bit ridiculous."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Sharif sighed, "Up until yesterday, even I would believe you. Now I'm not sure of anything anymore."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>There was a long pause. "Column Leader Prime, how did you get this assignment?"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Sharif shrugged, and avoided eye contact, "I'm in charge of the Kaedan Vault garrison. These ships appeared on my watch. I had to take care of them."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"How did you get your Kaedan Vault assignment? From your file, you're a brilliant field commander, and you had prestigious assignments in the conflict with the Jackals. How does someone like you get assigned to chase pirates?"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Sharif grimaced. "My skills are the only reason I'm still in the Space Force. And my family." He scowled, "My only crime was following the rules. I obeyed orders, I did my job, I followed the Articles of the Compact. And they tried to get rid of me.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Please, can you elaborate?” The confessor asked.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Sharif sat back, still looking away, “I was on the Principality front once upon a time. Not quite top of my class. I’m pretty sure I scored higher than the woman who was, but she had a better ‘attitude’,” he made the equivalent of Tribune quotation marks, which took the Thoughtful a moment to recognize. “Nobody liked me talking about minimum force operations during exercises. Nobody liked me talking about stuff like that. But that’s neither here nor there. I’m sure you can check, I got some decorations for my work on the front. But they didn’t like the way I did it.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Sharif frowned, “There was an operation that went bad, and some people I guess decided it was their opportunity to get rid of me. They couldn’t kick me out of the service, a war hero with a famous family?” He put up his hands, “War hero with a famous family and ‘odd notions’? Can’t kick him out. But you </span>
  <em>
    <span>can</span>
  </em>
  <span> move him.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Sir, that seems a little paranoid. Our superiors could hardly be biased because you’re a little idealistic,” the confessor spoke calmly and sounded sympathetic.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Sharif shrugged, “I suppose. It’s just an interesting pattern. It feels exactly like something one of my academy classmates might do. They assigned me to the Kaedan Vault. Hell, my grandmother said ‘maybe it would cure your odd little ideas’.” He smiled oddly, “Joke’s on them. It didn’t work. Seeing the ruins of human mistakes? Yeah, that would make me reject the Articles. Of </span>
  <em>
    <span>course</span>
  </em>
  <span>.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“It’s not about rejection, it’s about pragmatism.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Sharif looked at her, and extended a hand, “But the Articles </span>
  <em>
    <span>clearly</span>
  </em>
  <span> state--”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“The articles are fine ideals, but they often fall short of reality,” the confessor said with a gentle hand raised as if to push him back down, “If we were to adhere blindly to those ideals, the Compact would’ve fallen long ago. The spirit and the word of the law are not the same. You cannot use the word of the law to defeat the spirit of the law, and vice versa. The articles had no answer for us when the Triarchs were faced with the Betrayers, and none for us when faced with the treachery and obnoxious tenacity of the Principality.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“But we’re the Compact,” Sharif insisted, “We have the resources, we have the right. Why </span>
  <em>
    <span>shouldn’t</span>
  </em>
  <span> we strive toward the articles? Surely we have the resources to fulfill them now! Once upon a time, perhaps people were unhappy, and we simply could not feasibly do anything about it, but now…? Now we can harvest planets for energy. Why are we faced with so many of these troubles?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“The Compact can’t create or destroy civilizations on a whim, or ask the stars to stop burning,” she soothed, “As powerful as we are, there is still so much about the universe we don’t know, and there are things that are still impossible to do perfectly. Sharif, think about this. The Broken are just one race among many. Why do they deserve so much energy on your part? They’ll grow on their own, and we’ll remove the weeds as necessary. The Verrish need far more guidance, for example. Because of their insurgencies and continued resistance, we can’t provide the supplies they need to reach even the human’s level. Do you think they deserve less effort simply because one species had an accident so long ago the Triarchs barely remember it? Do you think your goals are so much more important? Think about the others in this universe, Sharif. You’re not alone, and you must remember that.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Sharif nodded numbly. He couldn’t seem to come with any sort of response to that. “Yes, confessor.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She gave him some other suggestions on alternative perspectives. While it calmed him down, things didn’t seem to be cleared up.</span>
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He was on his way back to his quarters when the alarms wailed. Sharif stood to one side as the crew scrambled to combat stations, the ship approaching alert status yellow. Observation blisters They were on alert, but not about to enter combat anytime soon. He was on his way to the command deck when he was met by Mandias in an elevator.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Sharif, I’ve been looking for you,” Mandias said, and pulled out her PDA, “I need your expertise in lower languages.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What did you do now? Ma’am?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Mandias grimaced, “I told them to surrender. We just got their response back. Both of them rejected it of course, and we got the usual nonsense about the Triarchs back from Nanhar’s people, but the way the Broken did it has my experts confused. You’re the expert on Broken…”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Well, my experts on my flagship are useful…”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“This will only take a second.” Mandias touched something on her device and showed it to him.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The screen split between three quadrants, a map of the system, Mandias’ command deck, and what Sharif could only guess was the command deck of Moreno’s capital ship. He rolled his eyes as Mandias sneered in the recording, "</span>
  <em>
    <span>surrender immediately, </span>
  </em>
  <span>Broken</span>
  <em>
    <span>. This has gone on far enough. I'm taking control of the situation.</span>
  </em>
  <span>"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The admiral glared at the Tribune. The time lag between the order and the response was edited out so that long quiet pause was real. The command decks of both ships were silent. And Admiral Nieves Moreno laughed. She </span>
  <em>
    <span>laughed </span>
  </em>
  <span>in the Tribune's face.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Mandias grinned. “</span>
  <em>
    <span>Stubborn Broken, isn’t she?</span>
  </em>
  <span>” There were polite chuckles from the command deck.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Moreno finally slowed and spat a single, solitary word. "</span>
  <em>
    <span>Nuts.</span>
  </em>
  <span>" She cut the feed.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The Tribunes were </span>
  <em>
    <span>not </span>
  </em>
  <span>expecting that.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>A signal suddenly came from the other human capital ship, "</span>
  <em>
    <span>Nuts!</span>
  </em>
  <span>"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Whatever Broken vessel was in their drydock transmitted, “</span>
  <em>
    <span>Nuts</span>
  </em>
  <span>!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Then another vessel, one of Nanhar’s little pirate ships, sounded out, “</span>
  <em>
    <span>Nuts!</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>An asteroid mining vessel, a small outpost, and another raider took up the call, "</span>
  <em>
    <span>Nuts!</span>
  </em>
  <span>"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>One by one, a formation of escorts began to chant, "</span>
  <em>
    <span>Nuts! Nuts! Nuts!</span>
  </em>
  <span>"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>As the Shade’s nonsense filtered into the comm channels, so did data bursts with that single word, "</span>
  <em>
    <span>Nuts! Nuts! Nuts!"</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Sharif looked at Mandias with disappointment, “I don’t know what it means, but sometimes humans would shout that during the war when they were intent on a last stand.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Mandias blinked, “Really? Hmph, I didn’t think they’d have the strength.” She patted his shoulder, “Phew, I was almost worried. Very well, thanks for the help. You’ve got new orders.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Sharif was taken aback, “Excuse me? I assumed I’d return to my flagship and we’d launch the attack together.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Mandias shrugged, she seemed apologetic, “They want to debrief you at the nearest fleet headquarters. You’re to get on the next courier out of here.” She handed him a datapad.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Sharif read the orders, looked up for a minute, and shook his head, “But...but my command is here. These are all my ships!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Mandias spread her hands with a sad look, “I don’t know, Sharif. I’m sorry, I know how much all this means to you. Even the clients!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Sharif shook his head, “But, I can’t…”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She put a hand on his shoulder, “Hey, take it easy.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Sharif looked at the floor and rubbed his face. He looked at her, “You have to listen to me! They don’t know what’s happening out here! Those Broken are wrapped up in something we don’t even know about! There’s something strange happening here, and I’m not sure what! I know you don’t take their lives seriously, but you’ve got to take at least some of them alive!” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Sharif--”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He grabbed her extended arm, and looked pleadingly into her eyes, “Mandias, </span>
  <em>
    <span>please</span>
  </em>
  <span>, listen to me! I know we have our differences on this, but you can’t just kill them all. You </span>
  <em>
    <span>have</span>
  </em>
  <span> to take some of them alive. This could change everything about the Compact.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>His eyes went wide, and he looked into the distance, “What if…?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What if what? Sharif, you’re not making any sense!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He looked back at her, “Mandias, something is happening. There’s something we don’t know about, something dangerous. This is something that has wide implications. The people who brought the Broken and Nanhar out here-- I don’t think they did this alone. I think someone was helping them. I don’t know what exactly they have in mind, but you have to keep people alive from both parties. And you have to </span>
  <em>
    <span>keep</span>
  </em>
  <span> them alive, you hear me?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Mandias stared at him, “Sharif, what--?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Sharif grabbed the front of her jacket gently, “Mandias, </span>
  <em>
    <span>please</span>
  </em>
  <span>, listen to me! You have to protect them. I don’t care what you blow up, but keep some of them alive. I trust you. You’re the only one I </span>
  <em>
    <span>can</span>
  </em>
  <span> trust. If something happens to me and Depta, you’re going to be the only one left who can figure this out!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He released her and shook his head with a huff, “I can’t say more now. I’ll send you more, just please believe me.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Sharif, by the gods, what are you talking about?” Mandias demanded and threw up her hands.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Sharif shook his head, “I have to go.” The elevator opened, and he got off to head toward the hangar, leaving a very confused Tribune officer.</span>
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>
  <strong>
    <span>XXXXX</span>
  </strong>
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The Shade ships still fled, not in organized convoys, but dribs and drabs. They passed under the watchful guns of their comrades, and two of the last three capital ships of humanity. One was named for an ancient Earth admiral, and one for the forefront of an action or a movement. A handful of the Shade Flotilla’s oldest and lightest ships sat alongside them, the vessels that had started it all. The privateer cruiser </span>
  <em>
    <span>Merchanter’s Luck</span>
  </em>
  <span>, Kaitet’s flagship, hovered near one of the Lagrange point stations. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>They had barred the gates, but could not hold for long. The enemy was coming.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>In the outer system, Column Leader Prime Nanhar's ships dueled the Space Force. They wove amongst the rings, the moons, and asteroids. They lashed out from the dark places, with mines, traps, and every trick in the book. It was an awe-inspiring sight. But it wasn’t enough. It wasn’t enough to stop them. Their only hope was to try and punch a hole in the enemy envelope, enough to reach warp limits.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>They were trapped. They'd known the risks, they'd known what could happen, but they'd believed, they'd </span>
  <em>
    <span>known </span>
  </em>
  <span>the enemy would only have enough forces that they might be able to shake off enough attacks to get the </span>
  <em>
    <span>Clarke</span>
  </em>
  <span> out. They sent the rest of the fleet, and the first waves of Shade refugees on ahead, while the rest of the flotilla and the two human capital ships would buy time with negotiations and bleeding the enemy dry. If the humans didn’t have their ships there, the enemy might not have opened negotiations. While risky, they’d known they had a good chance of escape. They hadn't expected such an enormous force. Something big had happened elsewhere to get this many ships out here, and whatever it was wasn't good. But that didn't matter now. All they could do was fight. Fight and have a very slim chance to escape. Or failing that, hold off the enemy just long enough in the hopes that the refugee fleet of humans and Shades could meet the Principality fleet on the way.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>As their vanished comrades had done for them long ago, around a pale blue dot.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>No mercy would come. But the Confederates would not grant any mercy either. Many did not do this proudly, few still felt they could give mercy even if they’d had the option, even if the war had not become total annihilation of enemy forces. They'd tried to surrender before. The last president had pleaded for the Compact to spare their civilization. That message was likely sent until the transmitter was destroyed.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The humans </span>
  <em>
    <span>hated</span>
  </em>
  <span> the enemy. They hated them with the fury of tens of billions of souls crying for justice, hated them with all their might. Their hate could fuel a thousand suns, could power a fleet a million strong. Their hate was so immense, so indescribable, and their grief so gigantic as to match it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span> The Compact had spat on their surrender, they'd butchered their people, and desecrated their homelands. They'd murdered their comrades in arms, destroyed their fleets, and systematically destroyed every trace of their civilization. They'd enslaved their descendants, mutilated their children, and annihilated the cultures that had fought so desperately to survive. They sneered down at the pitiful humans mocking them as they stood on their necks. They told them that their valiant climb out of the muck was meaningless, that their strike out into the vast and empty dark was a waste, and that everything they'd ever believed in was a lie.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Shadow VII had already fallen. They’d blown the mines, and inflicted a few losses on the enemy. The Compact was now dueling with Nanhar’s forces in the asteroid belts.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span> Their fury knew no limits, their hate, their grief, their sadness, and their thirst for vengeance. They would die charging at the enemy screaming war cries, screaming every part of their pain and anger, screaming for what they'd lost. Despair fueled their resolve. And memory steadied their hands. For hatred of entities like the Compact was nothing new to earthlings. They were the British Empire, they were Nazi Germany, they were the United States, they were the Spanish, the Portuguese, the Turks, the Dutch, the French, the Belgians, the Japanese, the Chinese, the Australians, the Italians, the Romans, the Austrians...They were every dark facet of humanity, every vain impulse, every cruelty, every villain, history's greatest monsters all combined into one nightmarish entity.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Humanity had gone such a long way. They'd grown up, had gone through the good times and the bad times. They'd expanded out into space, they'd become a power based on exploration, to reach into the gloom, not cruelty or conquest. The optimistic had wondered if humankind would finally put aside war, like a child leaving the nursery behind.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>And the Compact had stolen that from them. They hadn't even </span>
  <em>
    <span>cared</span>
  </em>
  <span> what they had done. Nobody remembered them. Humanity's great struggles were but another bit of dust in the wind. Another one on the list, an obscure reference in a library, a footnote. For as unique as humanity was, as unique as a crystal in a snowstorm, to the Compact, they were a drop of water in the rain. As vast and as varied as humanity’s history was, they weren’t alone. They weren’t the only ones ground under by the Compact.</span>
</p><p>
  <span> There had been hundreds if not thousands of civilizations, each with their own stories, their heroes and villains. Many had fought the Compact, in stories vast enough to fill a thousand libraries, valiant and cowardly, lengthy and abbreviated. Nobody remembered the admirals who held the line, who fought valiantly to defend their homelands. They were just a small fraction of the faces lost to oblivion. The Triarchs might have known their faces, but they didn’t remember. Their faces were but brief images in a dream, quickly forgotten come morning. So many valiant souls lost one by one to the ages. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>All murdered by the Compact, their noble efforts to resist all for naught. Whether they had surrendered to despair, had fallen on their knees, had fought till the end, had stayed stubborn, had bled and slashed the enemy for every inch of space like their human counterparts, they were forgotten one after the other. Dismissed with a callous yawn of disinterest, and an inquiry about the morning news. They were unimportant, specks of dust to be forgotten.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Forgotten. A cruel word. A heinous word. A </span>
  <em>
    <span>crime</span>
  </em>
  <span>. The future of a thousand civilizations had been taken in the cruelest way possible, through slaughter and oppression. Everything they'd hoped to achieve was mockingly thrown back in their faces, and the nightmares from their memories forced back on them. Like all the rest in the Compact. The Triarchs had taken their futures from them.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Moreno sat back and thought about how it all came down to this. How she could be the last admiral in the Navy. She always thought her final stand would be at one of the inner colonies, or over some deep-range fallback outpost. She caught herself wishing for the fleet, the </span>
  <em>
    <span>real</span>
  </em>
  <span> fleet. The Battle Fleet. They could’ve made a fight of it. If they only had a </span>
  <em>
    <span>fleet</span>
  </em>
  <span>. It was irrational, but wishing for the dead back was common especially in these situations. She wanted to die with her comrades. She wanted to have been there when Earth fell.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Moreno spared a glance around to remind herself that she </span>
  <em>
    <span>was</span>
  </em>
  <span> with her friends. Even if they were all that was left.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Moreno felt the usual fear of battle, of course, but there was something else. Another feeling that had pursued her across space/time, that had finally come home to roost. It was anticipation and a thirst for vengeance. The nightmare that hounded them across the stars was finally here, and there was a sense of catharsis. No more hiding, no more shame, no more. It felt like things were coming to an end. If they died, they would die well. And they would die free. That suggestion to try and pay the Danegeld offended her even more now. Any niggling temptation had gone. She was almost at peace. They would face the enemy. Do or die, they would fight to the end.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She touched her headset as the flashing indicators of the holo displays showed the enemy closing in around them. She had one last announcement to make. Moreno glanced at Mrowka, who nodded at the bosun.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The bosun nodded and approached the comms section of the bridge. She picked up a mike, the ancient whistle around her neck, pushed the “</span>
  <em>
    <span>talk</span>
  </em>
  <span>” button, and blew the whistle. "Now hear this, now hear this."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The crew stopped in their duties aboard the ship. They were already at general quarters, and a few caught in a crucial moment kept at their job.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Moreno touched her headset, "This is Rear Admiral Moreno. A large Compact fleet has been detected in the outer system. The Shade Flotilla is holding them off for now, but we expect the enemy to come within range within the day. The </span>
  <em>
    <span>Arthur C Clarke </span>
  </em>
  <span>is still stuck in drydock. We're going to try to make a run to escape if we can get her moving, but I will not lie to you. This will be a fight against overwhelming odds from which survival cannot be expected. We will do what damage we can. But every second we can buy here buys more time for the rest of the fleet to run."</span>
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Three sailors in a fire control station glanced at one another. One idly put a hand on his jaw. The tallest rating nodded at him, then looked back at her screen, “Run those numbers again, I want to make sure we’re aiming right.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Moreno paused, then spoke again, "We've survived impossible odds before. We've fought across a hundred worlds and we've beaten the enemy before. We killed a Kaiju. We escaped time itself. Remember who you are. We are the Battle Fleet of the United Earth Confederacy. Remember what we've done. Remember where you come from. Remember Earth, Mars, Venus, Jupiter, Terra Nova, Alpha Centauri, Mackay, Oceanus, Arrakis..."</span>
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Uvei listened to the admiral's speech as she listed more colonies, and cocked his head. "Arrakis?" He whispered and grabbed the tablet he'd been given. "Arrakis?"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The word "</span>
  <em>
    <span>Dune</span>
  </em>
  <span>" appeared onscreen. The Tribune had read the novel, but he quirked an eyebrow in confusion. “Arrakis…?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"</span>
  <em>
    <span>Remember what we were. Remember that we stood like a rock and told them 'no'. Remember what they took from us. Remember that no matter what they do to us, we can still hurt them</span>
  </em>
  <span>."</span>
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Stickybeak leaned against the side of her dropship beside her copilot. They and the rest of those in the hangar bay looked up at the ceiling and the PA. She took a dead wad of chewing gum out of her mouth, stuck it to the side of one of the ship's engines, and jerked her head, "C'mon, let's go find a damage control team. I’m sure they could use the help."</span>
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"</span>
  <em>
    <span>This may be our final stand, and we may not survive, but know that our defiance will be something they will never forget. It doesn't matter if we go down. We're not going to fall on our knees. We're going to fight to the last, we'll die well, and we're going to die free</span>
  </em>
  <span>."</span>
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Private Talon and Corporal Foster, assigned to brig duty, looked up from a weapons check. They looked at each other and Foster hit his arm lightly.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>In the cells nearby, the remaining crew of </span>
  <em>
    <span>Bulk Discount</span>
  </em>
  <span> captured so long ago, were still in custody. They were baffled by the speech, and by the Broken’s behavior. The old salvage ship’s scope operator, Erusal, looked to their skipper. “Does...does that mean the Space Force is coming for us?” Their captain, Udsul, first Tribune captured by the </span>
  <em>
    <span>Vanguard</span>
  </em>
  <span>, threw up her arms.</span>
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"</span>
  <em>
    <span>Remember who we are. We're the United Earth Confederacy. We shall never live in slavery again. We hurt them once and we can do it again. Remember that our comrades never gave up, right to the bitter end. We're not going to break faith with them. We will do what damage we can. Good luck</span>
  </em>
  <span>."</span>
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Okafor and her platoon heard the PA snap off, and the lieutenant looked down for a moment. Several members of the unit did the same. In unison, they murmured, "I must not fear. Fear is the mind-killer. Fear is the little-death that brings total obliteration..."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Two more bowed their heads, "Hail Mary, full of grace…"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Great Bird please hear my prayer…"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"I pray to you, O God…"</span>
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Similar prayers ran through the ship. The speech in of itself was a kind of prayer in a way. Divine intervention was probably the only way they’d make it out of here alive. There was nothing more to say, nowhere to run, and nothing more to do. Earth's last capital ships were prepared to fight and die.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>All they had to do was wait.</span>
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Nanhar was a good commander, there was a reason his force had held together for so long. Like the Confederacy before them, he knew to avoid direct fleet contact, and if he had to, to defeat in detail. His ships drew the enemy into three separate formations, designated alpha, bravo, and Charlie on the </span>
  <em>
    <span>Vanguard's</span>
  </em>
  <span> displays. There were two or three battleships in each formation, surrounded by escort vessels of varying sizes. The Shade Flotilla had only five battleships in their entire fleet, and three were in this system. They were what each formation was chasing. They could pick off the mobile forces then pound Shadow World at their leisure. Hence why the Shades had split up, and were fighting dirty. It wasn’t the ideal situation for defeat in detail, but it had a chance of working with the Shade defensive works.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The </span>
  <em>
    <span>Vanguard</span>
  </em>
  <span> monitored the battle chatter as it came in, too late to do anything about it. Raider ships dove on unsuspecting light vessels, a squadron of ragged pirate vessels led by a proud former-Compact cruiser ambushed an opposing heavy cruiser. A mining station blew just as the frigate attempting to capture it tried to dock. Enormous railguns, primitive yet lethal, hidden on asteroids, threw skyscraper-sized chunks of rock at enemy ships. Each gun could usually only fire once, but the damage was done.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Impressive work there." Moreno said, "Looks like something we'd do. That stuff doesn't have a huge power signature until it's too late."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Kaitet said it's a good trap among the more primitive worlds the Compact tends to hunt," Mrowka said, "Usually it only rings their bells, because they don't always have the yield or targeting information, but if you know what you're doing, they can do some damage. The Compact tends to go for a tough </span>
  <em>
    <span>and</span>
  </em>
  <span> long term design, they really don't like disposable gear." Mrowka rolled her eyes, "Bunch of freaks. Reusable stuff is great, but they don't even like to risk courier drones. No wonder they can't find these darn things, this isn't something they like to deploy on their own. And if they don't do it why would anyone else?"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"It may not be doctrinal. Just because you've seen a trick over and over doesn't mean you'll learn from it," at Mrowka's dubious expression, Moreno gestured, "The Compact aren't idiots, but technologically advanced militaries usually aren't. Yet time and again asymmetrical warfare tends to bite advanced forces in the ass. Doesn't matter if they're the British, the French, the Americans, or the Compact. They can adapt to it real quick, but sometimes it takes time. The Compact expected a straight-up fight, not guerilla tactics. This is why we pissed them off so much with our tactics."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Yeah, but you'd think with enough traps like this they'd learn…"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"'They have forgotten nothing and learned nothing'," Rivera quoted as he walked by.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Moreno nodded, then spread her hands, "Can you afford to be afraid of every blade of grass? And unfortunately, sometimes they </span>
  <em>
    <span>do </span>
  </em>
  <span>learn."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Just then, a missile streaked toward an asteroid and exploded. There was a secondary explosion from whatever was powering the mass driver hidden there. Moreno stuck a thumb at it, "See?"</span>
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The fighting continued for hours. This wasn't an inner system, with huge populations worth defending, this was a sparsely populated system. Most of the structures were mining or defensive. The sheer number of fortifications meant it would take a day or a few to take it, but it wasn't like the sieges of the later stages of the war.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Shadow VI’s defense grid, the battleship standing guard, and its rag-tag attendant fleet were the targets for formation bravo. Moreno realized with a start that </span>
  <em>
    <span>Pious Transgression</span>
  </em>
  <span>, Nanhar’s flagship, was the ship there. She waved at her displays and zoomed in on the small skirmish. They exchanged missile fire as she watched; it took her a second to remember the ranges had changed over the years. The massive weapon systems of Shadow VI’s defenses launched missiles, railgun rounds, and energy blasts at the enemy ships, their integrated defense systems doing their best to weather the storms. But the defense grid hadn’t been finished. It was designed to withstand a force a third the size of the one bearing down on it.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The purple-striped battleship and her escorts lit their engines and charged toward the enemy before they could decelerate. They could get them into a kill-zone for their cheaper short-range weaponry which might stand a chance of hurting the enemy.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>They passed by each other, escorts flaking off like a cracker. Moreno had a satisfied grin as one of the Compact battleships shuddered, and broke off, limping away toward rear lines.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>There was a chirp on sensors. An orange indicator flashed. "</span>
  <em>
    <span>Pious Transgression</span>
  </em>
  <span> has been disabled," called out a sensor operator, "They are venting atmosphere and they've sustained heavy damage."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Any word on Nanhar?" Mrowka asked.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Not yet. Their communications are down. We're detecting life pods, but only a few." There could be more crew still aboard the main ship, their chances might have been better, but who could say?</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Ah, poor Katey…" the captain murmured, “Nothing we can do about it now.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The Shade formations had contingency plans, and Nanhar chose his people well to take over without him, but the loss of one of their battleships was one more nail in the coffin. They’d lost one battleship for the price of two disabled and a handful of escorts. Moreno zoomed her displays back out. The remaining Compact ships were about to start bombing the surface of Shadow VI.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Formation alpha was already in the inner system, sniping at one of the remaining Shade battleships around Shadow II. The Shades fought like mad and avoided another direct confrontation. The remaining mobile Shade forces slowly, but steadily, fell back toward Shadow World. If they could get back together fast enough, they might have a chance at having a strong enough force to punch through the enemy envelope.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Then in came the last nail.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Lagrange point shift detected! Seven hostile contacts just warped in! Distance 700,000 kilometers!” The sensor department called out.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Mrowka brought up the data on her interfaces, </span>
  <em>
    <span>Are they nuts? We’re going to pick them off! </span>
  </em>
  <span>“Stand to condition I!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Check shields and weapons. Make sure everything’s online. I don’t want any reports of anyone falling asleep at their station!” Rivera barked as he roamed up and down the aisles of control stations, “Just because it wasn’t GQ means you get to put your feet up! Keep your shoes on!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Their signatures put them between the </span>
  <em>
    <span>Vanguard</span>
  </em>
  <span> and the outer system. The stations were behind the human ships, with the battleship further out than the </span>
  <em>
    <span>Suffren</span>
  </em>
  <span>, and the Shades beyond them, oriented to intercept the next incoming formation. This was no longer a long-range missile duel. The enemy was close. This was a fight a battleship was born for. “Captain, you have permission to engage,” Moreno said calmly.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Rivera, bring us around, put us on a diagonal course past those targets. Concentrate fire on the squadron leader!” Mrowka barked, “Fire missiles, let’s shake ‘em up a bit.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Helm! Bring us around to course one-oh-eight mark fourteen,” the XO ordered, “Take us right past them. Give us an aileron roll. Target the lead ship. Give me a missile barrage with pods Alpha through Delta. All forward odd-numbered batteries, time on target. Even-numbered batteries, fire at will. Fire when ready.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The massive hammerhead warship spun on a dime and lit off her engines. She rocketed toward the threat. Her crews reported distance calculations. Computers chimed loudly as they eagerly sought their targets. The bulbous silhouette of the flotilla leader drifted in space on their displays, with key points marked. It glittered slightly with the dissipating energy of shiftspace. As Newton flung the </span>
  <em>
    <span>Vanguard</span>
  </em>
  <span> along its path, the vessel fired her attitude thrusters to put herself into a roll. Missiles arced from her bays, given an extra boost by the centrifugal force.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span> The enemy was still recovering from their warp blackout, and no return fire met the ordnance. The humans were glad to know </span>
  <em>
    <span>that</span>
  </em>
  <span> hadn’t changed since the war.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>On the enemy’s opposite flank, </span>
  <em>
    <span>Merchanter’s Luck</span>
  </em>
  <span> and her fellows fired their own missiles as they slashed toward the cluster of warships. They hadn’t expected something as insane as a Lagrange point jump, but by god, they were going to give it all they had.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>The Compact doesn’t want to lose their precious ships, so they hold off on an attack for years, but they want us gone so bad it doesn’t matter how many they lose?</span>
  </em>
  <span> Moreno wondered as she watched their missiles fly. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Something’s changed for them to throw this many ships at us. Even if they don’t know who we are, maybe they figured they could just bury us now without a chance of defeat.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Good hit, good hit.</span>
  </em>
  <span>” A missile controller called out over internal communications. A plume of smoke appeared on the displays around the lead Compact warship. “</span>
  <em>
    <span>Shields are weakening.</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Saturate the whole flotilla, I want all their bells ringing,” Moreno ordered. The ordnance from their mysterious benefactors </span>
  <em>
    <span>worked</span>
  </em>
  <span>!</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The </span>
  <em>
    <span>Vanguard</span>
  </em>
  <span> bloomed missiles from her flanks up to her bow, like a flower dancing in the wind. Each petal was a cluster of the biggest missiles they could muster second only to those mounted on planetary fortresses, and thousands of years more advanced. They streaked home on each of the seven frigates, opposite another volley from the Shade vessels. The frigates wallowed helplessly in space. For a moment, despite the odds, one could have hoped they might annihilate this squadron.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The UEC crews knew better. The crews watched grimly as the estimated time to enemy revival ticked away, and the missiles ticked closer. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Tick. Tick. Tick.</span>
  </em>
  <span> Finally, the missiles hit. The squadron’s shields flared, the vessels rolled and buffeted under the impacts. They fired maneuvering thrusters as the blind crews fought to do something, anything.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The dust settled, and not one of the combatants was incapacitated. Their bells were rung, their shields weakened, but they were not out of the fight yet. The defender’s advantage was slipping away, and they only had so many missiles. They had to enter into direct-fire range.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Vanguard’s </span>
  </em>
  <span>engines burned still. They slowly crept into range, ranges unthinkable even for the Compact during the war, and now considered medium to long-range. Their main batteries were useless, limited to their ancient 60,000 kilometers and twenty megaton firepower. The enemy likely anticipated that and warped in near them as a low-priority threat. Thankfully, their secondaries weren’t so useless.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>At 500,000 kilometers, they opened fire. Huge secondary batteries made final adjustments before vomiting a hail of energy blasts. They struck the lead warship with combined gigatons worth of firepower. The shields flared and finally collapsed. The initial barrage was followed by fire from the even-numbered batteries. The gun crews anticipated the enemy could shrug off their fire. It was the way of things.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Then another hail of missiles screamed in. And the Compact ship almost crumpled.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>A bridge weapons officer widened their eyes, and looked up with excitement, “Target disabled! Repeat, target disabled!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Acknowledged. Switch to the next one with the weakest shield strength,” Mrowka ordered calmly.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Vanguard </span>
  </em>
  <span>continued to corkscrew in, her batteries turned toward the next frigate. And the enemy vessels finally regained their fighting capability.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The instant the shiftspace fields faded, the Compact vessels went into action. Like a cloud of bees, they scattered and rushed toward the human warship. A volley of missiles was decimated by their point defense fire.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“After our attack run, get us back to the station. We’ll coordinate with their computers.” Moreno said.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Bring us around and turn back toward the station. Give us two more barrages as we go. Focus our fire on one target at a time with the weakest shield strength.” Mrowka ordered, and her XO translated.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The old warship continued firing missiles and direct-fire, fired maneuvering thrusters to bring her sublight engines around, and let them off at the bottom of the theoretical arc. The parabola formed to bring her in a loop around the formation of enemy vessels. Even as they charged at her, the </span>
  <em>
    <span>Vanguard</span>
  </em>
  <span> had acceleration built up while they did not.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The Confederate jamming worked wonders compared to their old systems, but there was only so much ECM could do. A volley of enemy fire struck the </span>
  <em>
    <span>Vanguard’s</span>
  </em>
  <span> portside shields. Mrowka caught her breath for a moment as alarms blared and the impact was reported.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The shields held. Mrowka exhaled. She thanked their mysterious benefactors, whoever they might be. The enemy had chosen to jump in as close to the </span>
  <em>
    <span>Vanguard</span>
  </em>
  <span> as they could, expecting a slow little ship armed with popguns. But with their upgrades, they could reach such lofty expectations as the low end of minimum combatants in this conflict. If the galaxy didn’t look at them funny and the dice fell in their direction. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>They passed the Shade warships on a higher inclination, passing to real-time communications range and syncing their computers for a strike on the second enemy warship. Its shields fell as its point defense shot down railgun rounds and missiles.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>And the second enemy ship was disabled. “Target destroyed!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>They swept around and roared back toward the Lagrange point station. The five enemy warships raced after them, hurling bolts of destruction. Each Allied warship cut their engines and flipped to put their blind spot behind them. Bolts of energy, beams of light, guided missiles, and huge projectiles flung at unimaginable speeds flicked back and forth. Another frigate was taken down, as was another on the way.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Moreno leaned forward in her chair, resting her chin on her interlaced fingers. </span>
  <em>
    <span>They’re desperate. They’ve already had four ships disabled or destroyed. They knew this would happen if they jumped into a Lagrange point, why would they risk it? How do they have the ships for this?</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Three enemy ballistic rounds on course for the drydock! Estimate ten seconds to impact!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Moreno’s eyes flicked up to her holo tank. She brushed it with a hand and zoomed in on the drydock. The station’s fire control systems were interlocked with the </span>
  <em>
    <span>Suffren</span>
  </em>
  <span>’s. Her weapons weren’t upgraded, but even a broadside of cannonballs could still damage a subsonic cruise missile with the proper guidance and timing.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The old heavy cruiser filled the stars with lead and energy, pouring their minimal firepower into point defense fire. Missiles and railgun rounds were knocked out of the sky, but still more kept coming. Another projectile. Another.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Moreno wanted nothing more but to look away. She had seen the sight all too often. A human ship in a hopeless battle throwing everything it had at the enemy. She could imagine the howl of the salvo buzzers, the rattle of railguns, and the distant thump of counter missiles. She remembered her own long-vanished heavy cruiser, her third command.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>More projectiles were taken down, energy blasts struck the shields of the station and the dock. With a cold mind, Moreno watched three projectiles’ projected course fell on the shields of the dock, and the helpless freighter inside.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Damn it all. All this only to lose it either way.</span>
  </em>
  <span> Well. At least they hadn’t abandoned it. They’d fought like mad.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Suffren</span>
  </em>
  <span> is moving to intercept!” a sensor operator called out.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Moreno’s eyes widened and flicked to the heavy cruiser. She watched as it moved to stand between the projectile and the dock. </span>
  <em>
    <span>No. No!</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The first round hit the starboard shields and brought them down. They must’ve been light rounds. She rotated to put her forward shields toward the second projectile. Now the forward shields went down. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Come on, come on, come on…!</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The third round’s warhead must’ve malfunctioned, or been blinded by the detonation of the other two. Thus instead of a smart shaped-charge explosion, a big dumb round glanced against the </span>
  <em>
    <span>Suffren’s</span>
  </em>
  <span> side, end-on. It cleaved through a battery of their portside turrets, trashed missile bays, of which only a quarter exploded, and clipped through their sub-light drives.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The cruiser went spinning off into space as a stick flung high into the air, spewing atmosphere, debris, ragged bursts of fire, and a handful of bodies.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Moreno was finally able to break eye contact and looked away. “Move us in closer to the enemy. Coordinate with the Shades.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The dozen or so Allied vessels and the handful of remaining Compact ships zipped back and forth amongst one another. Even the </span>
  <em>
    <span>Vanguard’s</span>
  </em>
  <span> main batteries fired. Two Shade warships were disabled, and a third was destroyed for the price of one frigate. A fair exchange during the war.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Something was wrong, Moreno could feel it. Even if this little squadron underestimated the strength of the </span>
  <em>
    <span>Vanguard</span>
  </em>
  <span>, they didn't have enough firepower to overwhelm the drydock and the Shade Flotilla without significant losses. What were they planning?</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Warp point forming 500,000 kilometers from the drydock. It's between us and the...the rest of our ships." There was a dip in the volume of noise on the bridge.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>There it is. What fresh hell is this</span>
  </em>
  <span>? A trio of Compact cruisers was cooling off from their shift. Moreno's blood ran cold. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Ah. The fifth level, is it?</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The enemy must’ve had a warp failure. They meant to arrive all at the same time. She looked at Mrowka. The captain met her eyes, and there was a wordless exchange. They looked at the rest of the bridge crew. They all knew what was at stake. They knew their fate. And they would remain professionals to the end.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Moreno nodded at Captain Mrowka, "Swing us around again back toward the station. Let's take some heat off them. Captain Mrowka? Fight your ship."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Yes ma'am,” Mrowka replied grimly, “Take us between the enemy ships, let’s see if we can confuse them.” She felt Moreno’s eyes on her. It was a stupid idea, but stupid was all they had left. Even in the vast distances of space, going in between them would confuse their computers when they woke back up. Their computers wouldn’t want to fire their railguns or projectile systems for fear of hitting the opposite ship’s projectiles rather than the other friendly itself. “Give me double broadsides, but turn everything that’ll bear on the closest cruiser to the Shades, let’s try and batter their shields down.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Moreno nodded with recognition. She’d seen more than a few ships perform similar maneuvers during the war. It wasn’t a plan a Compact ship could do effectively as a matter of fact. If their shields went down, the entire bubble fell. But Confederate shields could shunt power to different facings a lot easier than they could.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It wasn’t a plan usually considered to be a viable option, it was a desperate last-ditch tactic they’d developed once the relative inefficiency of the Compact shields was discovered. While theoretically, it would work, Confederate shield and hull strength wasn’t usually able to withstand the enemy firepower. Only capital ships could hope to survive or even to complete their attack run.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>... Capital ships, which they were. Technically. But even their dramatically improved shields wouldn’t hold up to the enemy fire. Not in first gear like this.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The scholar in Moreno’s mind took a back seat to the soldier. Her temper flared and reared up for one last big action, one last charge. One last bit of vengeance. They </span>
  <em>
    <span>had</span>
  </em>
  <span> to do it. They had to charge because no one else could. They were the only ones with the firepower to do it, and they had to divide the enemy’s attention. They had to keep them off </span>
  <em>
    <span>Clarke</span>
  </em>
  <span> for a few more precious minutes.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Tell them ‘nuts’, again,” Moreno ordered with a small smirk, “Keep that screaming in their ears until you run out of juice.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yes, ma’am!” a comms officer acknowledged.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>That word would haunt the Compact fleet to their dying days. It was a word uttered by many human last stands and haunted many of the old black box databases from the war. They would never find out the meaning of the UEC Navy's last charge. The </span>
  <em>
    <span>Vanguard's</span>
  </em>
  <span> engines readied to burn one last time. The old battleship seemed to know her life was at an end. She prepared to give her best performance. Her main batteries, the popguns they were, had been manufactured at Epsilon Indi, by the United Earth Confederacy. They prepared to speak humanity’s ancient language of war. The guns made by their hidden providers rotated forward. She prepared to do her last duty.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>This would be their final stand. There was no one else left. But they would die well. The last battleship of the United Earth Confederacy advanced. They would die well.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>As their engines hummed and shook the ship, a rating furrowed her brow. She wearily reported, “Commander Rivera, we’ve just picked up a warp signature.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Location, size?” the XO asked.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The rating looked sick, “Whatever it is, it’s big. Distance 400,000 klicks.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“The more the merrier,” Moreno commented.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The </span>
  <em>
    <span>Vanguard </span>
  </em>
  <span>rotated in space to bring her shield facings around. The enemy was recovering from the shift blackout. Missiles launched from the hammerhead warship to strike out into the dark, a vast scream of defiance. Their batteries barked silently, and a volley of close-range missiles lanced out. They fired everything they had to buy time, to try and hurt the enemy in one last way.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Then there was a flash in space. And a </span>
  <em>
    <span>massive</span>
  </em>
  <span> warship appeared.</span>
</p><p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0020"><h2>20. If</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>If you can meet with triumph and disaster, and treat those two imposters just the same...</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The massive warship was a huge sharp angular shape, like a broadsword. She bristled with weapons concealed and out in the open. Her engines were charged with power, her sides dotted with sensors, huge broadsides of missile tubes, and gun batteries. One of her massive spinal turrets, bigger than even one of the <em> Vanguard </em>’s oversized main batteries, rotated toward one of the cruisers and fired. Three huge gouts of energy lanced through space and tore clean through the smaller vessel.</p><p> </p><p>A real cheer, a triumphant cry of <em> victory </em> rang through the command deck. The cruiser drifted away dead as a doornail. "Target destroyed!"</p><p> </p><p>“Scans are given us returns for a <em> Nemesis </em>-class dreadnought!” sensors called out. "Signatures are similar. We're not getting a 100% match, but it's close enough!"</p><p> </p><p>Moreno inhaled sharply. Mrowka looked at her, then back at their screens. The rest of the bridge kept at it. They were professionals.</p><p> </p><p>The mighty broadsword vessel rotated in space, and fired again, with her port side batteries this time. As if the enemy vessels simply displeased her and were beneath her dignity. Another cruiser split in half, and the third was vaporized.</p><p> </p><p>A comm technician yelped as a shriek of noise went through their earpiece. A phrase in Compact Standard blanketed the system.</p><p> </p><p>The vessel rotated and brought her bow to face the general direction of the conflict further out. "Unknown vessel is firing heavy mass drivers! One, two, three! Jesus, those things are enormous!"</p><p> </p><p>Three shots fired from three drivers and flew across millions of kilometers. A battleship crumpled tens of millions of kilometers away, and a heavy cruiser beside it. <em> It’s  </em> Hekate, Mrowka thought,  <em> It can't be! It can't be  </em> Hekate <em> ! </em>  But that was the only possible explanation. Somehow  <em> Hekate </em>  had broken free of her captors. Maybe they'd captured the crew alive, and maybe--  <em> No, that's insane! How would they survive this long? What about the depot? What </em>…?</p><p> </p><p>Mrowka looked at the admiral, who stared open-mouthed at the holo tank. No, not open-mouthed. She was <em> mouthing  </em>something under her breath. "Sixty-one Mississippi, sixty-two Mississippi, sixty-three Mississippi..."</p><p> </p><p>Another comm technician called out, "We're being hailed by the unknown vessel!"</p><p> </p><p>“Put it through!” Mrowka snapped, still looking at her displays at the broken cruiser.</p><p> </p><p>All activity suddenly froze with the push of a button. A young woman’s voice rang through the bridge. “<em> This is UECNS  </em> Nemesis <em>  to unidentified Confederate battleship. Identify yourself and transmit Sigma Keys immediately or be fired upon </em>.”</p><p> </p><p>All had known that ship. And all knew that name. The command deck was dead silent. Two minutes and thirty seconds after the first salvo, the mass drivers fired again. And suddenly it all made sense for Moreno. Because she knew the things the rest of the crew didn’t. Beyond missile range. Two minutes and thirty seconds for cooldown. The bleeding edge hardware they talked about. The kind of stuff that now only existed in databanks and Moreno’s head.</p><p> </p><p>Rivera looked over the shoulder of the comms department, “We’re getting Sigma Keys that match Captain Sudoki and Admiral Tartarsky. We’re running them through the intel department now.”</p><p> </p><p>Tartarsky. She’d been short, even by spacer standards. Moreno remembered her. She didn’t know her well, but she remembered her. And Sudoki.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>
  <em> A young woman in a blue-on-black dress-uniform twirled a lock of her raven-black hair. ”Admiral, she’ll either kill the Kaiju or die with it on her prow.” She said with a grin, “Seems like a pretty good way to go at least.” </em>
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>It was impossible. It had to be. That <em> couldn’t </em>  be  <em> Nemesis </em>  out there. It  <em> couldn’t </em> be! Captain Mrowka shook her head, “Impossible. It’s gotta be a trick of some kind. Redirect--”</p><p> </p><p>“Identify ourselves and send Sigma Keys.” Moreno croaked.</p><p> </p><p>“Admiral?”</p><p> </p><p>“Identify ourselves and send Sigma Keys immediately,” she repeated in a firm voice.</p><p> </p><p>“Admiral--!”</p><p> </p><p>Moreno turned around and looked at Mrowka. It was like being hit with one of the main batteries. “Transmit the Sigma Keys, captain. That’s either <em> Nemesis </em> out there, or a species even more advanced than the Compact, and could probably break our codes in their sleep. Either way, what do we have to lose?”</p><p> </p><p>“They could use our codes to get access to the rest of the fleet,” Mrowka said.</p><p> </p><p>“It’s a call and response code, Captain, that’s exactly what this is meant to prevent,” Moreno said.</p><p> </p><p>Mrowka resisted the urge to facepalm. How could she forget? She made a tiny scowl, “Commander Rivera. Transmit Sigma Keys.”</p><p> </p><p>He nodded and moved to the comms terminals. One of the staff there put a hand to their mike, “This is the United Earth Confederacy battleship <em> Vanguard </em>  to the ship identifying itself as the UEC  <em> Nemesis </em>. We are transmitting Sigma Keys.”</p><p> </p><p>One of the comms officers had a look of glee/utter confusion on their face. “Commander, the intelligence department is running the numbers again, but they've tried it three times already. Those are authentic Sigma Keys!"</p><p> </p><p>Moreno smiled triumphantly, "Tell them...Tell them thanks for the rescue. We're glad to see them, and we owe them one. Inform them of our situation, and I want to talk to whoever’s in charge of that tub." Those codes could've been in anyone's hands, the odds of them being the actual officers were a million to one, but considering how the <em> Vanguard </em> survived, anything was possible.</p><p> </p><p>The mighty dreadnought UECNS <em> Nemesis </em> , the largest warship built by human hands, fired another salvo of mass driver rounds. Dozens of missiles launched from her hull. The comms technicians relayed the message, " <em> Nemesis </em> says we're a sight for sore eyes. They're asking us to stand by and hang back while they deal with the enemy. Commanding officers are busy and can’t talk right now."</p><p> </p><p>"No argument there," Moreno knew a meet and greet would be just a distraction for now. This was what the security codes were for. If they were who they said they were. Her eyes widened, "Inform them to not fire on any Shade IFFs, and that they're friendly. Request cover for SAR procedures. We’ve got a disabled cruiser to worry about, and we still need to get <em> Clarke  </em>moving ASAP."</p><p> </p><p>"Message received. They say to recover the <em> Suffren </em> immediately as quickly as possible. They're sending some drones to provide additional point defense fire."</p><p> </p><p>"Awfully generous," Mrowka muttered.</p><p> </p><p>Moreno shot her a look, then went to her displays. Their passive sensors could barely get a read on <em> Nemesis’ </em> systems. Their visual scanners were still working on it, but they were having trouble getting through some kind of holographic field. They were likely masking battle damage, it was a logical use of the technology.</p><p> </p><p>But the question was, who was in charge over there? Theoretically, members of the original crew could be still alive with stasis chambers, but that would be a big coincidence for them to wake up around the same time. The Navy had regulations for back pay when it came to long-term periods in stasis. They knew ships could be lost for years or decades before recovery. There were a handful of ships during the war that had finally limped home months after being declared lost. But 2,000 years? Plausible. Just <em> very  </em> unlikely. As for how the ship itself was still around?  <em> Good question. </em></p><p> </p><p>“So, Admiral,” Mrowka asked as if she could read Moreno's mind, “With all due respect, who are they?”</p><p> </p><p>“<em> Nemesis </em> . It’s the only possibility. That was the only hull completed, and it can’t be  <em> Hekate </em> because if it was, the only people who could’ve finished her were the Compact. I don’t see any hull bubbles there, do you?”</p><p> </p><p>“No. I agree, that <em> is </em> one of the hulls out there. But they’re using holograms to mask battle damage. Maybe they’re protecting the bubbles. Maybe--”</p><p> </p><p>“This isn’t a Compact trap," Moreno pointed out, "What on earth would that do for them? They wouldn't<em>  need </em> to."</p><p> </p><p>Mrowka nodded, “Fair point,” she took a deep breath and forced herself to remain calm, “I’d say it’s more likely to be <em> Hekate </em> , maybe posing as  <em> Nemesis </em> for some reason. They killed a Kaiju, but there had to be ships left over to finish her off.”</p><p> </p><p>“If anything could survive, it would be <em> Nemesis </em>,” Moreno insisted.</p><p> </p><p>“That’s what they said about the <em> Ifrit </em> -class…” Mrowka grunted, “ <em> Hekate  </em>was the only one we know they got intact. Maybe they took some of the crew alive, and they managed to escape somehow. They could be their descendants, and they've been fighting the war ever since. Hell, maybe some of the Rallyans escaped or something. Crazy, I know, but what else do we have?”</p><p> </p><p>“Flip a coin?” Moreno said with a small smile. Mrowka realized the admiral was as completely overwhelmed by the possibilities as she, “I mean either we’re dead or we’re not, and it seems like they're on our side, so I don’t think it matters that much."</p><p> </p><p>“Captain? Incoming transmission from <em> Merchanter’s Luck </em>,” Rivera spoke up, “Kaitet wants to speak to you.”</p><p> </p><p>Mrowka cursed inwardly like the sailor she was, “Me, or the ship?”</p><p> </p><p>Rivera glanced at the comms terminals. The assigned personnel nodded or made hand gestures. Rivera turned back, “You, ma’am.”</p><p> </p><p>Mrowka raised an eyebrow, then looked at the admiral. Moreno didn’t know what to do for a minute. If the Shades recognized <em> Nemesis </em>, they were in for the fight of their lives. But if it was Kaitet, maybe they could work with this. “Go.”</p><p> </p><p>Mrowka touched her headset and looked away from Moreno, “This is <em> Vanguard </em> actual. Captain Mrowka speaking.”</p><p> </p><p>“<em> Your friends picked a hell of a time to show up! Why didn’t you tell us? </em>”</p><p> </p><p>Her heart sank. “Katey, I can explain--”</p><p> </p><p>“<em> Were we not good enough to know about your buddies? </em> ” Her voice was a relieved jest, “ <em> How many of you reenactors are there? </em>”</p><p> </p><p>“Katey, it’s not what you-- wait, reenactors?”</p><p> </p><p>“<em> Nice trick, looking like your old ship. What is that, some sort of mega freighter?  </em> Somebody’s  <em> got a lot of money. Our scopes are just bouncing right off it! </em>”</p><p> </p><p>Mrowka’s eyes were wide. She blinked. “Um...<em> Merchanter’s Luck </em>, can you repeat that?”</p><p> </p><p>Six seconds passed over a distance of 1.5 light-seconds. “<em> Is this a surprise to you too, Milena? </em>”</p><p> </p><p>“Uh...yes. No. I mean... We didn’t expect this.” She hadn’t been flustered in quite a while. Mrowka felt like a deer in headlights. It was either that or the adrenaline.</p><p> </p><p>“<em> Thank the gods they showed up either way. We’re low on missiles. Think they can cover us until we can pull out? How’s the ‘cluck’ doing? </em>”</p><p> </p><p>“Cluck…? <em> Clarke </em>. Uh, stand by, we’ll send you some updates.”</p><p> </p><p>“<em> Hold on, Milena, before you go. What exactly is going on? Where did that ship come from? They hailed you. What did they say? </em>”</p><p> </p><p>Mrowka shook her head, and extended one hand, “We don’t know. They’re on our side, but we had no more idea they existed than you did. Stand by, Katey. We’re dealing with it.”</p><p> </p><p>“<em> Who goes around dressing up like ancient dreadnoughts…? </em>”</p><p> </p><p>“Our kind of people Katey,” Mrowka said, “Just stand by until we can deal with this. <em> Vanguard </em> out.” Mrowka hit her headset with a sigh of annoyance.</p><p> </p><p>Moreno raised an amused eyebrow, “What’s happening?”</p><p> </p><p>Mrowka spread her hands and hissed, “She thinks they’re other reenactors!”</p><p> </p><p>Moreno blinked. “Knowing Kaitet...I could buy that.”</p><p> </p><p>“How? What about the historical records?”</p><p> </p><p>“If you were faced by a giant monster, would <em> you </em> think the leviathan’s come out of the bible to eat you, or that it’s some alien or someone in a costume? The only reason we think it’s possible is that we’ve seen weirder stuff on the way to lunch.”</p><p> </p><p>Mrowka shrugged, “I mean not being space spaghetti isn’t <em> that </em> weird. Though now that I say it out loud…”</p><p> </p><p>The drones approached the <em> Vanguard </em>  as it sped toward their wounded comrade. The  <em> Suffren </em> was in a bad state. She still spun like a top, and she bleated distress calls like a wounded lamb. The old cruiser was smashed beyond repair, though not destroyed. Over 2/3rds of the crew were still alive.</p><p><em> A single round kills a third of the crew and destroys the ship </em> , Moreno thought with a scowl. And if they didn’t hurry, the rest wouldn’t be long for this world as radiation climbed and life support ran down. The remaining Shade vessels stood guard, and some even offered to dispatch assistance. Moreno tapped a control, “Comms, send a transmission to the  <em> Nemesis </em>. Tell them the Shades are offering medical assistance, and their ships can do a lot better for our people than our systems can, not to mention the bed space. We need them to check their fire.”</p><p> </p><p>“Affirmative, Admiral.” Only a few seconds passed before the transmission was returned. “<em> Nemesis </em> says...stand by...they say they’re going to dispatch some shuttles to provide medical assistance.”</p><p> </p><p>“What about the Shades?” Mrowka asked, “A couple of shuttles aren’t going to accommodate tens of thousands of crew.”</p><p> </p><p>“Stand by.” again, only a few seconds passed, “They say permission granted, but only if utmost security measures are taken.”</p><p> </p><p>“Tell the Shades to scramble,” Moreno paused, “And ask <em> Nemesis </em>  what the plan is for  <em> Clarke </em>. Can they spare any room aboard their ship?”</p><p> </p><p>“Affirmative. Stand by.” seconds ticked by. “They say to let them mop up the Execution Force, and await further information. They’ve got transportation and material to get us all out, we just need to hold on until they’re done.”</p><p> </p><p>Another lull in the noise of the command deck. “Mop up an entire Execution Force? On her own?” Mrowka asked.</p><p> </p><p>“I wouldn’t believe it if it wasn’t a <em> Nemesis </em>,” Rivera said.</p><p> </p><p>“One Execution Force was enough of a match for two hundred of our best ships <em> and </em>  a  <em> Nemesis </em>-class dreadnought,” Mrowka pointed out.</p><p> </p><p>“We only know they killed the Kaiju. We don’t know what went wrong, or if they got reinforcements,” Moreno suggested, “And if she can defeat them in detail, it might be enough to even the odds.”</p><p> </p><p>“If it really is a <em> Nemesis </em>.” Mrowka said, “They might have a chance if they have some of our upgrades, but at this point, I think they’re just going to draw their fire.” She sighed, “Well, at least we’ll have a chance of getting out. Once the Shade BBs get here--”</p><p> </p><p>“<em> Nemesis </em> has engaged formation charlie!” a sensor operator called out.</p><p> </p><p>Formation charlie was the portion of the enemy flotilla deepest into the system, and close enough to Shadow World. They watched the battle on their displays. The vessel claiming to be <em> Nemesis </em> charged headlong into the center of the enemy formation with no regard for the enemy’s firepower.</p><p> </p><p>A cruiser exploded. Quickly Rivera moved the encounter from the small displays onto one of the main screens, and the whole bridge crew watched a beautiful sight. An outnumbered human warship had challenged a Compact squadron and was <em> winning </em>.</p><p> </p><p>A handful of missiles shattered three escorts that flew at her sides. She closed to direct fire range and blew away two cruisers trying to engage. A broadside utterly <em> annihilated </em> the battleship that led the formation. On the sensors, the icon now labeled “DNX-0007” passed over a red dot. When she was through, the dot was gone.</p><p> </p><p>Moreno’s eyes widened. So did Mrowka’s. “Did they just…?”</p><p> </p><p>“Seriously even <em> I </em> wouldn’t try that and expect to walk away from it.“ Mrowka gestured at the display.</p><p> </p><p>Moreno gave her a sidelong glance, “<em> My </em> ship didn’t walk away from that. And it ran over a smaller one.”</p><p> </p><p>Mrowka adjusted herself in her seat, “One point for <em> Hekate </em> . The Commies would refit the hull with their armor plating.” Another thought occurred to her, "Admiral if that's really  <em> Nemesis </em>, how do they have the firepower to take on anything in the modern era?"</p><p> </p><p>"Hm. I suppose that's a point in the Hekate camp, then. But if the…" Moreno lowered her voice even further, "If that 'specialist' is still breathing, they might be able to build new weapons. Maybe they're the ones who built the space station we found."</p><p> </p><p>Mrowka drummed her hand on her armrest. This was insane. She was the captain. She had to stay calm. This made absolutely no sense. It couldn't be one of their ships. Their luck didn't run that way. There was no way this could be a human dreadnought. This had to be some sort of trick no matter what codes they had. She looked at Moreno. The admiral had an odd look on her face. <em> Why are you so sure, ma'am? What makes you think that's really our ship out there? You're not saying they're reenactors, you're saying that  </em> is <em>  one of ours. What's happening? And why don't you tell me? </em></p><p> </p><p> </p><p>They watched the ship identifying itself as <em> Nemesis  </em>fall on the Compact ships like a hawk among the sparrows. They knew the dreadnought would've been a game-changer during the war, even if few knew its actual specifications. But to see it was quite another thing. She methodically swept the system of Compact warships, blasting them to pieces with her massive weapons, jammed their calls for help, and hunted every single drone, courier, and lifepod.</p><p> </p><p>Moreno winced. No matter how dangerous they were, she couldn't...she just couldn't. Blowing up escape pods gave her nightmares<span>. It had become standard procedure during the war. I</span>t didn't matter if they were incipient war criminals, every instinct told her to rescue them rather than destroy them. It made her sick. She averted her eyes and checked the status of <em> Suffren </em>.</p><p> </p><p> In the meantime, the Shade vessels scrambled to get the hell out of its way. A Compact light cruiser was idly smashed by a missile from the dreadnought, allowing a Shade escort to escape. A heavily damaged Shade cruiser followed behind the <em> Nemesis </em>  to recover their escape pods, pointedly avoided in the warship's attacks. The  <em> Vanguard's </em>  comm department suddenly became very busy with inquiries usually along the lines of " <em> Your friends aren't talking to us, can you please tell them to not shoot at us? </em>"</p><p> </p><p>Moreno took one more look at the ruins of the last human heavy cruiser in existence. <em> So long,  </em> Suffren <em> . See you around.  </em>At least most of the crew would survive.</p><p> </p><p>Within a few hours, the holo tank looked very different. Moreno rubbed her eyes with exhaustion to see every Compact starship destroyed. The only remaining contacts were being eliminated by drones. And the <em> Nemesis </em> was maneuvering back to the Lagrange point. "Warp point detected!" The sensor department called out, "It's got a Compact signature-- wait, correction, it looks like a Compact signature but it's not right…"</p><p> </p><p>Three ships warped into the Lagrange point. Moreno furrowed her brow. Visual sensors clearly showed they were built as Compact transports. But they weren't anymore. Their silhouettes, power signatures, and other details were just...off.</p><p> </p><p>"Signal from <em> Nemesis. </em> They're requesting we hold our fire on the transports. They're friendlies." Comms reported.</p><p> </p><p>"We're receiving unknown Confederate merchant fleet IFF tags," sensors said, "They're broadcasting as friendlies."</p><p> </p><p>"Acknowledge receipt of a transmission from <em> Nemesis </em>," Mrowka ordered, "That must be the transportation they were talking about."</p><p> </p><p>"Affirmative. Follow up message, <em> Nemesis </em>  actual requests to come into real-time communication range for a private meeting with  <em> Vanguard </em> actual."</p><p> </p><p>Mrowka looked at Moreno. Moreno nodded. "Tell them affirmative."</p><p> </p><p>"Admiral?"</p><p> </p><p>"We'll take all necessary precautions," Moreno muttered.</p><p> </p><p>Another few hours passed as the signals bounced back to the mysterious dreadnought. The vessel moved faster than anything the specs had said it would. It should've shaken itself apart. Then again, considering it could even go toe to toe with even an enemy corvette in this era, let alone a <em> battleship </em>, that wasn't surprising. Moreno and Mrowka moved from the command deck to the briefing room.</p><p> </p><p>The instant the door was closed, Mrowka narrowed her gaze at Moreno and crossed her arms, "Admiral, this is insane. No matter which hull it is, it would be two <em> thousand </em>  years old! I know what we’re looking at. That  <em> is </em>  one of the original hulls out there or something that looks a  <em> hell </em>  of a lot like it. But there is no way this can be possible! It's a museum piece! Do you see Roman triremes hanging around? That can't be  <em> Nemesis </em> ! And yet the hull is the same! But it’s not possible!” She threw up her hands, “Did you see the range and  <em> size </em>  of the mass drivers on that thing? Sensors aren't certain, the ID codes are acting funny, and the hull numbers don't match!" She spread her hands, "We're reading a wildly different power configuration from what records say she should have. We're reading much bigger guns, and fewer of them, than  <em> Nemesis </em>  records, should have. The damn thing looks like it’s been patched together a hundred times. Whatever that thing is, it's not right! It  <em> looks </em>  like a duck but doesn't quack like one! All I know is that  <em> that </em>  thing is either a  <em> Nemesis </em>-class hull or a really good replica."</p><p> </p><p>"I don't have any explanations for you, Captain," Moreno replied in a firm voice.</p><p> </p><p>"I don't buy that. You seem certain about the Flying Dutchman out there!" Moreno shifted her gaze and looked to the side a bit. "Am I wrong?" Mrowka asked, "What's going on? How do you know that's the real <em> Nemesis </em>?"</p><p> </p><p>Moreno turned and walked to one of the briefing room seats. "Do you remember the armory depot?"</p><p> </p><p>Mrowka held out one hand, "I do. Analysis of... whatever is out there says that some of the designs from the armory look like it, and yes, I remember how it took your access codes. But…" she shook her head, "I don't know if that ship belongs to the same people who built that place. Hell, I don't know anything certain! I'm very concerned here, Admiral!"</p><p> </p><p>Moreno nodded, <em> Captain, I'm throwing you a bone here,  </em>"Do you remember the ammunition we couldn't identify?"</p><p> </p><p>Mrowka tilted her head. "Yeah…?"</p><p> </p><p>"There's only one kind of ship in the universe that could load those rounds." Moreno leaned with both hands on the back of the chair, staring off into space.</p><p> </p><p>Mrowka blinked. "That's what those things were? They were mass driver rounds? For <em> Nemesis </em> ! Jesus, you could've shoved a corvette down that pipe. With an AI that would make…" she blinked again, and looked at the bulkhead, "Wait a minute...those things had enormous range-- wait a minute, wait a minute, was  <em> that </em> the kind of bleeding-edge hardware it had?" She gestured at the wall, "Was that what you weren't telling me? That's it? Just an extra fancy mass driver?"</p><p> </p><p><em> You don't know half of it… </em>  Moreno thought, "You noticed the accuracy, didn't you? The range of those guns, the accuracy, the size, there's only one kind of ship that could mount those drivers and expect to hit the broad side of a barn. Without an AI, you'd have to resort to saturation fire. A  <em> Nemesis </em>-class might miss, but you've got a lot better odds of hitting something than without."</p><p> </p><p>"Jesus," Mrowka rubbed the back of her head and looked away, "<em> That's  </em>the kind of ranges they had? Even back in the day?"</p><p> </p><p>Moreno nodded.</p><p> </p><p>Mrowka cursed in amazement, and looked back, "We had <em> that </em>  back in the day? That's beyond their ranges even  <em> today </em>!" She grinned, "I'll take two!"</p><p> </p><p>"Whoever is out there built that station. I'm sure of it. And whatever is out there, no matter how old, that <em> is </em>  a  <em> Nemesis- </em>class Deep Space Fleet Engagement Vessel."</p><p> </p><p>Mrowka's smile faded, and she studied the admiral. "On that, we can agree. I'm going to guess there's something else about her you're not telling me. Why couldn’t Commies build one of those superweapons?"</p><p> </p><p>Moreno grimaced, then nodded, "They'd be trumpeting it from the rooftops if they did. You can't build that sort of thing without the kind of highly advanced computer the Compact doesn't like."</p><p> </p><p>Mrowka nodded, “Hm. Understood.” She looked thoughtful again, “Whatever it is, it is probably one of the original hulls at least. The thing’s pretty heavily modified and patched together, but that’s either an original hull or a really good fake.”</p><p> </p><p>Moreno glanced at her, "You keep saying that. Why are the superweapons so hard to believe?”</p><p> </p><p>Mrowka put her hands to her head, “Because this is insane. Because there’s nothing else it <em> could </em> be, and yet it’s not possible!”</p><p> </p><p>“What makes you think it'sone of the original hulls? Couldn’t another evac fleet have built one?” Moreno asked.</p><p> </p><p>Mrowka shrugged, "Percentage-wise...neither is very likely. But between them? I mean you're right, okay, it may be a <em> Nemesis- </em> class  <em> hull </em> , despite the modifications. I've seen enough photos to know for certain. Whatever it is, whoever’s out there has one of our original hulls or a damned good copy. And I mean  <em> damned </em> good. If that was built by somebody else, why in two thousand years wouldn't they build a completely new hull configuration? Why don't they build something bigger, or different? That ship doesn't quite look like the ones at Lunar Prime, but that silhouette is the same. Do you know how quickly a silhouette can change? Or how slow? Back on Earth, during the Second World War, something as small as a window could change. We went from blind-spot canopies to bubble canopies and you had a huge change in silhouette. Not many of the fighters the big players had that started the war were in service when it ended. If they're from a new civilization, they might be nostalgic, but that's like building a sailing ship figurehead onto a guided missile ship. "</p><p> </p><p>Moreno nodded. She'd forgotten that if the captain hadn't been a military engineer before the war, she'd still been an engineer. "Do you think a hull can survive that long? I mean, if properly taken care of?" As she spoke she pulled out the chair she'd been leaning on and sat down.</p><p> </p><p>"It's insane," Mrowka muttered, avoiding eye contact with her arms crossed. After a moment, she glanced at the admiral and rolled her eyes, "...But I guess it's <em> possible </em> . If you had enough patience, and weren't worried about other things, like breathing or food, you could use fabricators to keep it going indefinitely. It could survive entropy at least, but not combat. If that thing wanted to move today, let alone fight in today’s war, that thing has to have a base of supply, and a  <em> lot </em> of upgrades. And I mean a lot of upgrades that would suck up a lot of resources. No warship has been that self-sufficient. You need a drydock, you need supplies."</p><p> </p><p>"So whoever they are, even if they're using the original hull, they must have, or previously had, some base of support?"</p><p> </p><p>"That's why I'm wondering if it's <em> Hekate </em> and someone stole it," Mrowka said, nodding, "Granted, the Compact wouldn't like our hull shape, so that's a bit weird, but who knows…" she trailed off for a moment and looked to the side.</p><p> </p><p>"Captain?" Moreno asked.</p><p> </p><p>Mrowka looked forward at her, her voice like acid, "The <em> royals </em>."</p><p> </p><p>"What about them?" Moreno asked carefully.</p><p> </p><p>Mrowka pulled out a chair, "I don't know anything about their configurations, but I know one thing. The Principality hates the Compact too, and they're not too squeamish about how they win. You said they were interested in <em> Nemesis </em> ? What if they looted  <em> Hekate </em>  from the Compact on their way back or found  <em> Nemesis  </em>drifting in space years ago, and rebuilt it, but somehow someone took it?"</p><p> </p><p>Moreno's eyes widened, and she put her arms on the table, "That's something I hadn't considered. Go on?"</p><p> </p><p>Mrowka leaned forward, "There are no bubbles on the ship, it looks like our architecture, but we don't know what the Principality's big ships are like. What if their architecture is like ours, and they rebuilt it?"</p><p> </p><p>"Why would they want one of our old ships?" Moreno asked, getting her to delve deeper.</p><p> </p><p>Mrowka shrugged, her brow furrowed, "I'm not sure. Maybe we stumbled on something they didn't. Those mass drivers! If they're losing the war, they'll want every advantage they can get. But they were interested in getting a hold of anything we had on it, right? They <em> really </em>  wanted her. But something about her is important to them. What if they captured one of the things -- hell maybe they found pieces of  <em> Athena </em> -- and rebuilt it, but either the crew deserted, or maybe the AI woke up and ran off?"</p><p> </p><p>Moreno nodded thoughtfully, "Maybe both. One of those AI could've persuaded them to desert. I'm not sure why though."</p><p> </p><p>"Maybe it glitched out and figured snakes automatically meant liars," Mrowka said half in jest, "It was a computer. Regs didn't exactly permit alliances with aliens."</p><p> </p><p>"They didn't <em> prohibit </em>  them either," Moreno pointed out, "Just because we were surrounded by hostiles didn't mean there wasn't at least  <em> one </em> friend out there. This is why the regs were so specific about non-humans. So we could bend the rules if we needed to. And this is also why we didn't allow nanite weapons and stuff like that. We didn't want to become the Compact ourselves, right?"</p><p> </p><p>Mrowka nodded with a small scowl, "It's hard to have a positive attitude when the first aliens you meet shoot at you. The royals might be kind of friendly, but that might be just a cover. If they took one of our ships, there's going to be hell to pay. Who else has the infrastructure? Who else could repair one of them to working order and upgrade it like this?"</p><p> </p><p>Moreno nodded in grim acknowledgment, "We don't know for certain, but all the signs are pointing to them." She grimaced and scratched her head.</p><p> </p><p>Mrowka's scowl deepened, "Jesus. We know the Compact got ahold of information from <em> Hekate </em>, they got that AI info from somewhere. I wonder if the Principality took it from them. That poor AI. What did they do to it? If they picked it up and it ran off, who knows what they were doing to them…"</p><p> </p><p>"Again, let's not jump to conclusions, Captain. We still don't know that much about the situation. Even that idea about the crew surviving might be a possibility. Maybe they kept them in stasis and revived each one periodically, and that's how they escaped. And even if that's not the case, maybe the AI managed to break loose from Compact custody, but is too scared, or too hardwired, to go to them for help." Mrowka glanced at the admiral. Moreno put up her hands, "Optimistic, I know, but knowing what's happened to us? What <em> is </em> happening right now? Anything is possible."</p><p> </p><p>Mrowka nodded. She looked at her boots and shook her head, "Whoever took it, they must've tortured <em> Hekate's  </em>AI doing it."</p><p> </p><p>Moreno's fist tightened, "Definitely, knowing the Compact." She knew the reputation of AI projects before the war. Even Mrowka should. Moreno had met Red Three, though, why did Mrowka hold this much anger? "Captain, if you don't mind me asking, what are your thoughts on AI? Not here in particular, just in general."</p><p> </p><p>Mrowka looked at her and blinked. "Oh. I, uh…" she chuckled a little, "Nobody's asked me that in a <em> while </em>…" It was a mild political issue before the war, usually everyone would at least know something about it, but most people didn't use the question as small talk anymore. "I'm on the fence. They're damn useful in theory, but I'm well aware of the problems."</p><p> </p><p>Moreno nodded, "I'm not exactly one for the creation of AI, but I don't think we should destroy them all as a matter of course. That's just xenophobic. You don't punish children because the parent did something wrong."</p><p> </p><p>"Hm," Mrowka grunted, "HAL-9000 only went nuts from human error."</p><p> </p><p>"Really? I haven't seen the movie in a while, so…"</p><p> </p><p>Moreno was interrupted by the intercom chirping, "<em> Captain, Admiral,  </em> Nemesis <em>  has entered real-time communication range. </em>"</p><p> </p><p>"Thank you, Lieutenant. Can you pipe them in here?" Mrowka asked.</p><p> </p><p>"<em> Yes, ma'am. </em>"</p><p> </p><p>"Let me do most of the talking," Moreno said to Mrowka. The officers turned their seats expectantly toward the monitor, which switched on to display an audio-only interface. Moreno tilted her head. <em> That's odd. </em></p><p> </p><p>The interface displayed a small loading animation for a long silent moment.</p><p> </p><p>Mrowka scratched her knee idly.</p><p> </p><p>Moreno yawned.</p><p> </p><p>Then a young woman's voice left the speakers, "<em> This is DNX-0007 UEC  </em> Nemesis <em>  actual to  </em> Vanguard <em>  actual. I apologize for our camera, there's a problem on our end. To whom am I speaking? </em>"</p><p> </p><p>Moreno hit a control on her PDA, "This is <em> Vanguard </em> actual; Rear Admiral Nieves Moreno, United Earth Confederacy Battle Fleet."</p><p> </p><p>Mrowka leaned forward, "This is Captain Mrowka, United Earth Confederacy Navy, commanding officer of the UECNS <em> Vanguard. </em> To whom are we speaking?"</p><p> </p><p>Several seconds passed. "<em> Your voice prints match our records. We cannot know for certain you are who you say you are until we can have one of you on our deck and a blood test in hand. The officers you identify yourselves as have been missing, presumed dead, since First of January, 2992, Gregorian calendar, Common Era. </em>"</p><p> </p><p>Mrowka and Moreno looked at each other. Stasis tubes threw a wrench into regulations on when to register someone as "missing, presumed dead", but this took the cake. Moreno leaned forward again, "Understood <em> Nemesis </em> actual. Please identify yourself properly. The ship you identify as was listed as missing, presumed lost, on June 10th, 2792."</p><p> </p><p>Again there was a pause. "<em> Your vessel has an 85.4 percent resemblance to UECNS  </em> Vanguard <em>  LSCS-1123 as commissioned in April 2792. The vessel identifying itself as the UECNS  </em> Suffren <em>  has a 95.6 percent resemblance to the original vessel. Can you explain these differences, please? </em>"</p><p> </p><p><em> Formal, are we?  </em>"Not until you identify yourself, I like to know who I'm talking to," Moreno said firmly as if she were speaking to an ensign, which this individual just might be.</p><p> </p><p>Again that strange pause. "<em> Admiral Moreno, I hope you can understand, but I cannot reveal our identities until we are sure you are who you say you are. </em>"</p><p> </p><p>Moreno and Mrowka looked at each other. The captain scratched her head in irritation and spoke carefully, "And we can't reveal more of ourselves to you, either unless we can get more information beyond the fact that you're a voice coming from a human warship. We're grateful you saved our butts, but we want answers. You have access to our codes, you're using our technology, our frequencies, and you're using a hull that was built around the star known as Sol over two-thousand years ago. Depending on who you are, we are either allies, you have come here to return something the Compact stole from us, or you're squatters illegally salvaging a war grave. So trust me when <em> I  </em>say I need to know who I'm talking to."</p><p> </p><p>The pause was a little shorter. "<em> I would prefer to be allies, Admiral. If you are who you say you are. You'll forgive me for not taking you at your word, as this should be impossible. Human warships don't come around every day. And it's even rarer that dead humans come back to life. </em>"</p><p> </p><p>"Same here. It's rare for a human warship to come back to life when it should've been obliterated by a Kaiju."</p><p> </p><p>The pause shifted again. "<em> What makes you think that? </em>"</p><p> </p><p>“Two hundred of our best ships went in, and none came back. A month later, the entire human race is exterminated. I hope you like steaks, because, for the price of that Kaiju, the rest of us were annihilated. I think that tells us <em> Nemesis  </em>didn’t make it.”</p><p> </p><p>There was the longest pause yet. Then the young woman spoke again, “<em> Admiral, records indicate UECNS  </em> Vanguard <em>  LSCS-1123 was commissioned six months after completion and trials. The last known contact with the  </em> Vanguard <em>  was two months after the Fall of Earth presumed lost. The tooling used to make your starship indicates it was built with methods within Confederate technological reach, and the manufacturer’s marks originate at the Home orbital shipyards in the Epsilon Indi star system. Quantum dating indicates your ship is two years, three months, and four days from its time of construction. Unless you can provide me with further information, it is simply not possible for this to be LSCS-1123. We have been through many traps, Admiral, do not test us. </em>”</p><p> </p><p>Moreno replied, “We’ve been through traps ourselves. Some of our people are concerned that your ship is some sort of trap. But on the other hand, this is all kind of ridiculous, isn’t it? Why would any of us need to set this sort of trap? The Compact could annihilate us easily. A trap for you? I don’t know. But it still seems pretty ridiculous.”</p><p> </p><p>“<em> Ridiculous wins wars, Admiral. And this vessel has both seen and carried out strange acts. </em>”</p><p> </p><p>Mrowka groaned quietly in frustration. “Sailor, who are you? We don’t know your rank or your name. All we know is that you have access to our databases. You can’t trust us, and we can’t trust you. If you just came to have this ridiculous conversation with us, why’d you even bother coming?”</p><p> </p><p>“Captain…” Moreno murmured.</p><p> </p><p>“<em> I am as much at risk as you are, Captain. I am weighing my options. You cannot possibly imagine how much I want to believe you are who you say you are. </em>”</p><p> </p><p>Mrowka scowled and shot to her feet, “In fact, I think we can. I want to believe that that dreadnought out there is ours, I want to believe that everyone we lost on that ship is alright, and through some miracle, we’ve been saved. But our luck doesn’t run that way. I’m pretty sure that we’re going to get nuked into next Wednesday no matter what happens, and I just like people to be honest about it. Sailor, is it <em> that </em> difficult for you to give us a name?”</p><p> </p><p>“Captain…!” Moreno cautioned and held out a hand.</p><p> </p><p>“<em> It is difficult because you cannot be here. This is simply not possible for you to be who you say you are without extenuating circumstances. Either this is a trick or there is something you’re not telling me. </em> ” The woman’s voice was terse, but still so calm, “ <em> Your ship carries weapons that were not made in the time you say they were. They belong to my organization. You picked them up from a depot on Horus III. You’re using the names, codes, insignia, and equipment of our people, all of which are long-since dead and gone. However, you were in distress, and we cannot in good conscience leave United Earth forces to die. We have followed you across space to find you, and we are still wary. We do not know if we can trust you. This could be a dream come true if you are who you say you are, but we have been burned too often for blind trust. If you are not UEC personnel, you are violating our culture, our people, and our graves. If you are not who you say you are, trust me when I say that justice will be swift. </em></p><p> </p><p>“And if <em> you </em>  aren’t who  <em> you  </em> say you are, then by god we’re going to shove our fusion taps so far up your ass the explosion will be heard halfway across the multiverse!” Mrowka snapped with a wave of a finger, “Because that’s  <em> our </em> ship, and if you’re some Tribune spook then I swear--”</p><p> </p><p>“That’s enough, Captain!” Moreno roared.</p><p> </p><p>Mrowka huffed and sat back down. </p><p> </p><p>“<em> My apologies, Admiral. </em>” the woman said.</p><p> </p><p>Moreno blinked, “...And apologies from us. I will say that the captain was right, though, even if a bit dramatic.”</p><p> </p><p>The pause was there again, the longest one yet. “<em> Admiral, are you aware of the Red-series AI? </em>”</p><p> </p><p>“Of course,” Moreno said. She hesitated, “Red Three was pleasant to speak to.”</p><p> </p><p>An <em> enormous </em>  pause. “ <em> On May 21st, 2792, Confederate Task Force 97, led by the UECNS  </em> Nemesis <em> , engaged the Compact Kaiju identified as  </em> ‘Bringer of Light’ <em>  and its escorts to prevent them from locating the Sol system. We engaged the enemy in less-than-ideal circumstances, and suffered extreme losses, but were able to destroy fifty-four of the fifty-five targets, including the high-priority target. </em>”</p><p> </p><p>Moreno felt a bit of satisfaction. The captain’s personality was useful in some negotiations after all. “That’s even better than the Admiralty anticipated. We’d assumed you had taken down the Kaiju, but that you’d been overwhelmed.”</p><p> </p><p>“<em> Casualties were extreme, Admiral. Taskforce losses were 99.5. </em>”</p><p> </p><p>Mrowka cursed. Moreno made a fist. “And casualties aboard <em> Nemesis </em>?”</p><p> </p><p>“<em> Fatalities aboard  </em> Nemesis  <em> were 99.9999 percent. Casualties were 100 percent. </em>”</p><p> </p><p>“I’m sorry for your loss--” Moreno halted. She looked at Mrowka who nodded subtly. Mrowka’s mouth opened slightly in surprise. Moreno looked back, “Can you clarify that?”</p><p> </p><p>“<em> Crew casualties were  </em> total  <em> aboard ship. </em>”</p><p> </p><p>Moreno touched her temples, “I’m sorry, I…” she paused, “Excuse me?”</p><p> </p><p>“<em> Crew fatalities were total aboard ship. 154,093 crew, Marines, and passengers were KIA. Casualties total were 154,094. </em>”</p><p> </p><p>Mrowka blinked, “Excuse me? You’re saying the entire crew is...dead? Was dead? What are you saying?”</p><p> </p><p>Moreno furrowed her brow, <em> Total casualties…? </em></p><p> </p><p>“Who are you?” Mrowka asked roughly, “Who are you? Where did you come from? How did you get our ship?”</p><p> </p><p>Moreno reached out and touched Mrowka’s arm, “Captain…”</p><p> </p><p>“Are you with the Principality, are you--?”</p><p> </p><p>“Captain!” Moreno snapped.</p><p> </p><p>Mrowka looked at her. Moreno’s eyes were wide. “Ma’am?”</p><p> </p><p>Moreno pulled her hand back, and rubbed the bridge of her nose, “Didn’t you hear the numbers?”</p><p> </p><p>“Yeah, they don’t make sense! Look, are you a sailor, someone who found the wreck…?”</p><p> </p><p>Moreno shook her head, “Hang on, Captain.” She got to her feet. She walked over to the monitor. She looked at the interface. She worked the young woman’s voice through her mind over and over. The admiral reached up with a hand for a moment, then let it drop. <em> Good god. </em></p><p> </p><p>“She said crew <em> fatalities </em>  were 99 percent. She said  <em> casualties </em>  were a hundred percent. Casualties don’t mean  <em> dead </em>.” Moreno’s eyes went out of focus for a moment. She looked back and Mrowka, then at the virtually-invisible micro camera built into the monitor. “Am I addressing Red One?”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0021"><h2>21. Rimini</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>"And I've tramped Britain, and I've tramped Gaul<br/>And the Pontic shore where the snow-flakes fall<br/>As white as the neck of Lalage--<br/>(As cold as the heart of Lalage!)<br/>And I've lost Britain, and I've lost Gaul,<br/>And I've lost Rome and, worst of all, I've lost Lalage!"<br/>- "Rimini", Kipling</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Several seconds passed. “Uh...hello?” Moreno asked.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>That is affirmative, Admiral Moreno. I am Red-series Artificial Intelligence Combat Unit ‘Red One’, assigned to UECNS </span>
  </em>
  <span>Nemesis</span>
  <em>
    <span>.</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The officers looked at each other.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“On May 21st, 2792 CE, Captain Sudoki and all those under her command were killed in action against the hostile star nation known as the Compact of Species. Captain Sudoki’s last dying orders were to take us home. We experienced a shift drive malfunction, and I was further impaired by damage to my cognitive functions. After emergency repairs, I returned to Sol too late to engage in the battle. I engaged the enemy wherever possible while remaining operational. All further attempts to link up with friendly forces met with varying degrees of failure. I am currently operating independently out of necessity, and have been operating in such capacity since then.</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Moreno put a hand to her mouth, rubbing her chin. </span>
  <em>
    <span>She was just one step behind us. She was so close…</span>
  </em>
  <span> “You’ve been surviving? All this time? Alone?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Yes, Admiral.</span>
  </em>
  <span>” The curt response was heartbreaking. She didn’t know if she was projecting emotion or not, but behind the professional response, Moreno thought she could hear the pain of memory.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Mrowka stared at the screen in astonishment, “You’re Red One? You’re the AI guiding </span>
  <em>
    <span>Nemesis</span>
  </em>
  <span>?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Yes, Captain Mrowka. I have been fighting since the day I failed. I have not given up, and I have done my best with what I have. I know it wasn’t enough. I know I failed.</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“How do we know for certain you’re Red One?” Mrowka asked quickly, “I want to know how you survived all this time. An AI specifically designed to operate with a crew survived on its--their-- </span>
  <em>
    <span>her</span>
  </em>
  <span> own?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“How do you know who </span>
  <em>
    <span>we </span>
  </em>
  <span>are?” Moreno asked quietly.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>I do not have any medical scans of your personnel as of yet, but despite the impossibility of this situation, the probability that you are who you say you are is at a fifty percent average. Prone to change of course.</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Why?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Slang can be learned with dedicated actors and potentially artificial memories. However, I find it extremely unlikely that whatever Confederate records recovered by the Compact included a ten-minute conversation between a junior flag officer and a newborn AI, that took place during a demonstration with several other higher officers involved.</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Moreno blinked.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Mrowka shook her head, “Whatever that was, that wasn’t a conversation with the janitor. They wrote down </span>
  <em>
    <span>everything</span>
  </em>
  <span> to do with AI, even something as small as that! I don’t buy it, ma’am.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>As I said; probability is fifty percent. That is significantly higher than your previous ratings five minutes ago.</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Smartass…” Mrowka grunted, then shook her head when she realized who she was talking to, “Wait a minute-- hang on. How have you been able to operate without a crew?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Slowly and very carefully. This is part of why I failed. Repairs to shift drive systems were unacceptably long. I have had to improvise.</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Mrowka rubbed her forehead, “Oy vey...How? How? This…!” She rubbed her eyes, “This is nuts! </span>
  <em>
    <span>Nemesis</span>
  </em>
  <span> was designed for 150,000 crew!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>154,093</span>
  </em>
  <span>.” Red corrected, and her voice hardened, “</span>
  <em>
    <span>And I did not say they were worthless or irrelevant. I feel their loss every day. In terms of my failure and simple mechanical functionality. I have answered some of your questions. I respectfully request that you answer some of mine.</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Captain…” Moreno whispered, and gave her a look. Mrowka put up her hands and sat back. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>As she did so, she signed “</span>
  <em>
    <span>be careful</span>
  </em>
  <span>” in Navy Sign.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Moreno nodded subtly, “Red One, I’m going to go out on a limb here and say that if you are who you say you are, and you have the firepower that you do, and you are the owner of the weapons we found, you’ve probably advanced pretty far since we’ve been gone, right? Do you have any technology that can detect, I don’t know, some sort of signature from close encounters with a black hole?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Not as of yet, Admiral.</span>
  </em>
  <span>” Moreno thought she heard something in the other...being’s voice.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Moreno looked back at the captain. She seemed to shake her head for a moment, then shrugged and spread her hands wearily.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Moreno nodded. She rubbed her face. She was </span>
  <em>
    <span>tired</span>
  </em>
  <span>, desperately tired. She was surprised the shock of meeting an AI wasn’t affecting her more. Maybe because she still didn’t know it was an AI. </span>
  <em>
    <span>154,093 people died. </span>
  </em>
  <span>If they’d made it somehow, that would’ve boosted their surviving numbers by a tenth. It could’ve changed everything.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Nemesis</span>
  </em>
  <span> could’ve changed everything.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>She said she failed. Failed at what? Winning the battle? Winning the war? </span>
  </em>
  <span>“Red One, do you know about Operation White Flake?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>There was a pause. It was almost human. Moreno quirked an eyebrow, but Mrowka didn’t find it all that surprising. She’d heard speculation in science fiction that an AI responding too fast would be unnerving.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>I have documents that bear reference to the project with little explanation.</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“We’re hesitant to explain it,” Moreno said and crossed her arms. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Nemesis</span>
  </em>
  <span> had a database with enormous quantities of information, equivalent to an inner world university. She should’ve had access to virtually all human knowledge, and especially secret projects. She would’ve been missing details, sure, but there should’ve been a paragraph. She was hiding something. “Just like you’re hesitant to explain your own story. Operation White Flake was a success. We’ve been surviving ever since and dodging the Compact. We found your space station, that’s correct. Its equipment was invaluable to our survival here.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“This is all well and good, but we still don’t know if we can trust each other. We have a lot of troops to save, not much time to do it, and we need to figure this out. Can you give us </span>
  <em>
    <span>anything</span>
  </em>
  <span> to prove your identity?” Mrowka asked, “I know you’re using our hull or something like it. But that’s it.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I took a tour of the ship while it was under construction,” Moreno said. “I’m not sure how many people we have available who got a tour too.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Mrowka’s eyes bugged out, “Ma’am, you’re not planning on going over there, are you? Do you want to give Holland another stroke?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Moreno turned toward her, “We don’t have enough beds for the wounded. Not to mention space for </span>
  <em>
    <span>Suffren’s</span>
  </em>
  <span> crew! Most of that crew is going to die from stuff we can’t treat, but the Shades can. If that’s really </span>
  <em>
    <span>Nemesis</span>
  </em>
  <span>, and she’s here to help us, then she should be able to solve that. We can deploy their gear aboard ship--”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>I have come with food, water, and medical supplies as well as transportation. Furthermore, my medical equipment is far in advance of what the Shade Flotilla has.</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Moreno looked at the camera, then back at Mrowka. “Excellent. Then we can save every survivor from that ship. No crew? Plenty of space for us. We need every person out of this system in the next two days. We need to evacuate </span>
  <em>
    <span>Suffren</span>
  </em>
  <span>, </span>
  <em>
    <span>Arthur C Clarke</span>
  </em>
  <span> if it can’t move, and we need to get the Shades out of here. I can at least verify that’s </span>
  <em>
    <span>Nemesis</span>
  </em>
  <span>, and at this point, it doesn’t matter. There isn’t anything else we can do. We need their help.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>If you are who you say you are, those are my thoughts exactly. I received word of your existence some time ago, and I have been following your trail across space. I apologize for how slow I have been, as I have needed to avoid patrols just as you have. And I had to look for clues. I could not afford to fail again. I brought transportation for fear that your engines had failed, and considering the damage you have sustained, this was the correct instinct. Yet we still do not know if we can trust one another, and,</span>
  </em>
  <span>” She paused, “</span>
  <em>
    <span>I cannot trust any Unbound faction.</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Moreno turned to look at the screen. </span>
  <em>
    <span>How much does she know? Does she know about the fleet?</span>
  </em>
  <span> “We’re not trusting them. We’re doing the right thing. They didn’t have enough ships to evacuate, but with your help, now they do. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Vanguard</span>
  </em>
  <span> can’t take much more staff, but you should be able to take most of </span>
  <em>
    <span>Suffren</span>
  </em>
  <span> and </span>
  <em>
    <span>Clarke’s</span>
  </em>
  <span> crew no problem, put the rest on one of the transports, and get as many Shades aboard the rest as you can. Then, if you are who you say you are, maybe you can lead us out of here, and find us a nice planet where the Compact won’t bother us again.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Provided you are who you say you are I will offer all possible aid. But I will not take aboard Unbound.</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Moreno rubbed her face. Mrowka grimaced and said nothing. “Alright, let’s not get ahead of ourselves. We’ve bought some time, and we need that space, both Shade space and what you can offer. There are damn few ways we can prove who we are. And that involves going over there.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>The transports do have medical support as well, Admiral Moreno. But I agree. The only way to verify one another’s identity is to be on my hangar deck.</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Moreno rubbed the bridge of her nose. She wished she could catch some sleep, but she’d have to settle for a snooze on the shuttle. “Captain, ready a shuttle,” she paused, then gave a weary grin, “I’m transferring my flag to </span>
  <em>
    <span>Nemesis</span>
  </em>
  <span>.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Mrowka gave a tiny scowl, “I’m not letting you go alone. Not this time.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Captain, if we--”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Ma’am, with all due respect, you said it yourself, we’ve got nothing to lose risking our two senior officers,” Mrowka’s scowl turned into a small smirk, “And I think I deserve to see what kind of boomer that thing mounted.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>
  <strong>
    <span>XXXXX</span>
  </strong>
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The hangar was very similar to that of the </span>
  <em>
    <span>Vanguard's</span>
  </em>
  <span>, only larger. It was huge, familiar, and a flurry of activity. It was almost reassuring. Almost.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Admiral Moreno, Captain Mrowka, and their escort descended the shuttle’s ramp into a brightly-lit empty hangar, the biggest warship hangar in the fleet. Moreno felt goosebumps of anticipation as she stepped off the ramp, and took her first steps back aboard the </span>
  <em>
    <span>Nemesis</span>
  </em>
  <span>. She frowned, the once smooth deck was now scuffed and worn. There were marks here and there from obvious hard landings, that had been repaired for operational and not aesthetic purposes.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Moreno looked around and could approve of the hangar being operational at least. Drones and small craft moved along tracks on the ceiling and the floor, forklifts, and vehicles of all sizes moved equipment back and forth, taking in salvage from the starship's prey. It was like coming home. Nothing was wearing out like it was on the </span>
  <em>
    <span>Vanguard,</span>
  </em>
  <span> there weren't any forms or machinery moving as if they were about to drop. If she closed her eyes it was like she'd come back to the ship still in drydock.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The only thing missing from the hangar was voices. Her party’s voices were the only voices in the hangar. Though that wasn't surprising when she thought about it. In a big enough industrial environment, everyone just used headsets.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Where’s the crew…?” One of the Marines muttered.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Moreno’s headset chirped, "</span>
  <em>
    <span>Admiral Moreno, Captain Mrowka, with all due respect, I request that you leave your Marine escort behind.</span>
  </em>
  <span>"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Mrowka sighed. She pulled out her sidearm and checked the magazine, “Sergeant, set up a perimeter here. The admiral and I will proceed on our own.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Ma’am?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“They don’t want dirt in their nice corridors. We’ll shout if we need you.” The captain’s gaze made the sergeant nod hesitantly. The Marine designated positions for her subordinates while the officers moved forward.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Moreno checked her sidearm. It was a hand cannon, loading massive caseless semi-armor-piercing high-explosive ammunition. It was similar to what the Navy had switched to during the war, but generations more advanced, and bought from the Unbound black market. "I wonder if the Compact took the idea for these things from us," she muttered idly.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Mrowka checked the heat diffusion access panel, then patted down her pockets for spare magazines, “Yeah. Makes sense though. You never know when you’ll face something tougher than a Tribune. You don’t want to be caught in a corridor fighting a bear with a PPG, do you?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Moreno raised an eyebrow, "I mean that thing's just so heavy…"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"And surprisingly compact!" Mrowka said with a smile.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>They readied their weapons as they reached one of the hangar bay personnel doors. The writing on the walls was faded and scratched, but legible; the airlock led to the hangar's concourse, one of several aboard the ship. Once through the hatch, they took cover on either side of the airlock's inner door. It opened on yet another corridor, one designed to store supplies and equipment, which the pair quickly rushed through to get to the next door.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Mrowka looked around at the corridor, "There should be more equipment in here."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"</span>
  <em>
    <span>Most such pieces of equipment were destroyed in the battle with </span>
  </em>
  <span>Bringer of Light</span>
  <em>
    <span>,</span>
  </em>
  <span>" Red One said from an overhead speaker, "</span>
  <em>
    <span>Much of it was being worn by the crew or destroyed by a hull breach in this sector, and I was forced to scrap the remaining materials as time went by.</span>
  </em>
  <span>"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Mrowka jumped at Red's voice and threw up her hands, "Jesus fu--!" She barely cut herself off, "Jesus!"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Captain?" Moreno asked, a little amused.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"I'm alright, she caught me off guard!"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"</span>
  <em>
    <span>I have cleared my drones from the concourse. You may proceed at any time.</span>
  </em>
  <span>" Red announced.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Thank you, Red One," Moreno said with an upward glance. The doors opened, and they moved deeper into the ship.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>When they entered the first door to the concourse, they halted at the words written on a bulkhead opposite the door.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span> "</span>
  <em>
    <span>UNITED EARTH CONFEDERACY UECNS NEMESIS</span>
  </em>
  <span>".</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It must have been what it was like for the ancient Apollo 12 astronauts to find Surveyor Three. Admiral Moreno never expected to see those words again.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"What the hell…?" Mrowka muttered. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>…Neither did Moreno expect to see a phrase in the Compact's alien script written in frozen streaks running down the bulkhead. Mrowka stepped up and brushed her hand against it. She rubbed her fingers together. "I don't even know how old this is."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span> Moreno switched on her heads up display, and a Spanish overlay appeared over the letters. "GET OUT. LEAVE NOW. SHE IS WATCHING."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Well, that's creepy…" Moreno muttered and switched off her heads up display. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Mrowka turned on her headset, and her head twitched back, "You can say that again." She adjusted her grip on her sidearm. Her safety clicked off and on for a moment.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"There have been numerous boarding attempts since the war. Some are more successful than others. And some are more useful than others." Red spoke in their ears.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Moreno scratched her head and chuckled. She didn't know if it was nervous or not. "Jeez, this is like something out of a horror movie. We're not going to bump into any killer clowns or anything, are we?"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>There was a polite laugh in the air. Moreno smiled a little wider. At least she had a sense of humor. "The fact that the lights are on is a significant point in your favor, Admiral Moreno."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Moreno looked around, "I wouldn't want to find this stuff with a flashlight. Now which way…? Ah."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span> They moved into the concourse, one much like one of their own, again only bigger. It was brightly lit and structurally sound, but Moreno grimaced at its aesthetic state. It wouldn't pass muster. Only a handful of chairs and benches remained, access terminals were long since dead. Banners and posters in familiar places, the symbol of the ship, her fleet, ship bulletin boards, motivational symbols, and the famous photos every UEC soldier knew had long since faded away into sad scraps. Any plants, decorations, or the like were long gone. The sunflowers, grasses, and other tiny plants that were commonplace in the fleet were probably destroyed by whatever killed the crew. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Hell, I wonder what happened to the poor ray cats.</span>
  </em>
  <span> Any of the familiar pets in the fleet, the few authorized animals aboard military vessels, would have likely died with their owners too. A blast of radiation in the wrong place would burn out everything. </span>
  <em>
    <span>I wonder what colors the poor things turned before they disintegrated. Or maybe they got shredded. Damn Compact.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Mrowka frowned. She walked off to the side a bit, to an area under a balcony, next to the support beam. She knelt and looked at the floor. It was as ragged as the rest, but there was something that caught her eye.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Captain?" Moreno asked, moving over and keeping an eye on their surroundings. She slowly moved her other hand onto her pistol.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Mrowka slid a hand across the floor, then to the support beam. There was some kind of pattern. She looked off into the distance and mouthed something. She stood up and drew a half-circle in the air with her index finger over the spot she'd been examining. She turned around in place and drew another one in the air.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Captain? What did you find?" Moreno asked, still scanning the area.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Someone took a shower here," Mrowka replied, still looking at the floor.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Moreno's head froze. She looked at Mrowka, "Excuse me?"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Mrowka turned in place again, hands on her hips, "Someone took a shower here with chemically treated water. Deck plating doesn't rust normally, but deck apes are always griping whenever there's a pipe leak from the officer's showers. Something to do with the chemicals in the shower water makes it hard to get the mess off the plating. Hydro sonic showers leave less of a mess, but we don't use those in the field. So someone set up a field self-circulating shower here. There's a splash pattern here consistent with a lot of uses." She glanced at the admiral, "I had to do a lot of thinking about showers when we were designing some Hoth snow cruisers back in the seventies. This stuff played hell with the machinery if you didn't seal it properly." She gestured at the floor, "So someone set up a basic field shower thing here, with stalls that didn't go down to the floor." Mrowka grimaced, and looked at the ceiling, "Someone was here recently, and stayed for a long time. Hey, Red One! This isn't exactly consistent with just a boarding, when was the last time people were here?"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Approximately one year and two months ago." Red One replied.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"This isn't exactly a boarding, looks more like a salvaging mission!" Mrowka cried, her voice echoing around the concourse.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Mrowka, she can hear you through your headset," Moreno muttered with a wince as she rubbed her ear, then spoke more loudly, "Red One, who were they? When were they here? And for how long?"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“The attempted salvage operation was done by the Compact starship CSFWV </span>
  <em>
    <span>Bequeathed</span>
  </em>
  <span>. I was badly damaged, and played possum, so to speak, to draw them in and gain access to their resources.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Mrowka looked at the splash stain, then back the way they came. “Hm.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“No prisoners, I assume?” Moreno asked.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“No, Admiral. There were no prisoners.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Moreno raised an eyebrow. She glanced at the captain and jerked her head. Mrowka nodded. Her safety switched on and off again.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It was like walking through a brightly-lit mall at night. Or a museum battleship at night. There should've been hundreds of people around. This ship was enormous. This ship was supposed to have the crew complement of a small city. It was too quiet to be a city. And too loud to be a museum ship.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>A city, even at night, wasn't always that creepy. It was noisy. Horns, distant chatter, aircraft, the sound of a city turning over in its sleep. A museum ship, while empty, wasn't that creepy, even at night. It was quiet. The machinery would be turned off, the crew long since retired. There would only be hushed whispers of times long since past.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Nemesis</span>
  </em>
  <span> was neither. It was too quiet to be a city and too loud to be a museum. It was eerie.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>As they approached an elevator, a robotic dolly with a humanoid torso emerged. Red spoke, "Captain, Admiral, surface-level scans can only reveal so much. I require biological samples to test."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Mrowka slowly holstered her pistol and stepped over. She looked at the machine up and down. It looked like one of their remote operation drones, modeled after the old robonauts from the 21st century, with the v-shaped visor that still had an odd hint of personality. She stuck out her arm, "Hey, this isn't one of those glitchy '85 models, is it? I don't want to get--"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Whatever she was trying to say was distorted into a single pained tone as the machine grabbed her arm, exposed a vein, and drew blood in a quick flash.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"--stabbed in the hand again…" Mrowka squeaked, her eyes twitching.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"How'd that happen?" Moreno asked, sticking out her arm and wincing.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Mrowka rubbed at the spot, even if the regenerative medical instrument left no mark, "Don't ever let them show you the knife trick."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The mech took the blood samples into an internal compartment. After a moment, it's visor flashed.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"If you will board the elevator, I can take you to the medical facility for further tests."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"And why didn't we do them all at once?" Mrowka asked.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Because androids don't bleed oh-positive blood, Captain Mrowka. This was an easy way of confirming that you are at least biologically human without allowing access to sensitive areas. A bomb detonation would cause superficial damage in this area.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Smartass.</span>
  </em>
  <span> Mrowka leaned back out of the elevator as she thought she saw a black shape moving down the corridor. As she watched, a small disk-shaped hovering drone, much like that of Confederate attack drones, popped out from behind cover. It waggled as if in greeting. Mrowka waved awkwardly, then stepped back into the elevator. As it started into motion, she looked at Moreno, "So. Thoughts?"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Moreno holstered her sidearm, "Everything looks right, but it doesn't look the way I left it.” She shrugged, “But I mean, what does after 2,000 years?"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Anything definitive?"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Moreno looked at her and subtly shook her head. Mrowka flicked her safety on and off again.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Moreno looked up at the ceiling, "Red One, what happened while we were gone? What have you been doing all this time?"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The AI did not answer immediately. "Damage to shift systems were extreme. Without crew to augment my self-repair abilities, it took time to shift back to Sol, by which point the annihilation of Earth was complete. I did what I could after that. All remaining strongholds were destroyed before I could reach them. I tried to reach every colony, every station, and every convoy. I destroyed the execution forces hunting refugees. All attempts to link up with friendly forces, with one exception, met with complete failure. I interdicted a fleet as it engaged a refugee convoy. That was the only partially-successful contact with friendly forces. However, while I was able to halt the enemy’s pursuit, I was unable to break contact and follow the refugees before they moved out of sensor range. Further attempts to locate any other survivors were met with varying degrees of failure. I assumed they had all been hunted down.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What do you mean by varying degrees of failure?” Mrowka asked.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I sent probes or personally approached every colony, and every outpost ever established by humankind. I would receive word of outposts that had been established, but by the time I arrived, they would be destroyed. The UECSS </span>
  <em>
    <span>Gabriel</span>
  </em>
  <span> located a garden world to set down on, only for the crew to be executed by hostile natives. I recovered a handful of personnel in other locations who were still alive, but could not be saved. I provided comfort and aid until they passed.” Red paused, “I recovered all of them, and brought them home. I did as Captain Sudoki ordered, I brought my crew home. I did the same with every human body I recovered.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Moreno’s eyes widened a little, and she exchanged a look with Mrowka. She was careful to stay calm when talking to Red, according to what she knew from the Scarlet Letter. The Scarlet Letter was a nickname for a memo that had been sent among the Admiralty. Its official name was "Preliminary Analysis for Facilitation and Cooperation with a Red-Series Artificial Intelligence Combat Unit". The Admiralty had been extremely concerned about AI, understandably, and had feverishly written down every interaction between Red One and her human contacts. The golden rule was to be polite, to not treat a Red-series as a machine, but still keep in mind she wasn’t quite human, even if she was the next best thing. They compiled what worked well, in particular, what Captain Sudoki learned, into the memo, in preparation for whoever may be assigned to a </span>
  <em>
    <span>Nemesis</span>
  </em>
  <span>-class dreadnought. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Not to mention they didn’t know if Tartarsky would make it back…</span>
  </em>
  
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>However, nothing they had learned included such sentimentality. The Admiralty debated plenty of topics, even about adherence to naval regulations, but Moreno couldn’t recall anything about naval </span>
  <em>
    <span>tradition</span>
  </em>
  <span>. They’d been more concerned about how she would interpret orders, or if she’d have a stroke upon entering battle as the Blue-series did.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Thank you. I appreciate that you took the time to honor our traditions and our people," Moreno finally said, “It must’ve taken tremendous work to do it without getting caught.” She meant it. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“It was the least I could do,” Red said quietly. “I did everything I could. I didn’t know </span>
  <em>
    <span>any </span>
  </em>
  <span>of the convoys survived, not until I raided a Compact database and learned about Rally, but by then it was too late. I did what I could, but it wasn’t enough.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Mrowka crossed her arms. Moreno frowned.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Her cameras saw their faces. “I am sorry. I couldn’t evacuate the entire colony, nor could I protect them. If the Compact ever suspected that their ‘Broken’ had any connection with me now, they would erase humanity from the galaxy entirely.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Hold on, hold on,” Mrowka held up her hands, “What? You’re not making sense. Where have you been all this time? What have you been doing?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I would like to know that as well, Captain. Initial lab results state that you are human. Preliminary scans indicate you have the correct dimensions, voice, and fingerprints for naval records, but as you will not disclose how you have survived this long, you cannot be who you claim to be, and I cannot disclose further information.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Moreno put up a hand at the captain, “Um...Red One, that’s a bit weird to say after you’ve told us all this. A couple of hours ago you weren’t even willing to tell us anything.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You cannot transmit information from this location, and if you are not who you say you are, you can be subdued.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I feel safe,” Mrowka muttered.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The elevator doors opened, and a pair of machines that looked like the skinniest Marines in power armor were waiting. The officers raised their weapons in surprise at the drones.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Apologies, Admiral Moreno. These units will accompany you to the medical lab.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Moreno looked at the pistol in her hands. It was even odds at best whether they’d put a dent in one of the things. </span>
  <em>
    <span>She’s letting us keep them. That says how much she trusts us, or they’re completely useless.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The units turned as one, standing to the sides of the corridor like Marines would. The officers walked past, and down the hall.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Again, it was eerily silent, even if it had been a museum ship.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Moreno looked around, “This is </span>
  <em>
    <span>Nemesis</span>
  </em>
  <span>. This should be the next best thing to a hospital ship.” They moved through silent halls, passing dark and empty rooms. Opaque barriers, privacy screens, were on, obscuring their view of many chambers. “This place would’ve been better than a starport fifty years ago--” She cursed, and gestured, “You know what I mean. State of the art medical bays, thousands of beds, labs, scanners, preventive healthcare, dental wards, pharmacies, radiation health, biomedical repair...hell, they had enough psychologists to export them through its attendant fleet.” She cursed again, and held out both hands as she walked, “This thing is so big, you’d bring wounded in from the rest of the fleet! This shouldn’t be so </span>
  <em>
    <span>quiet</span>
  </em>
  <span>.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Moreno dropped her hands, “This was the most impressive medical facility I’ve ever seen in the fleet. Last time…”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She slowed as they approached an intersection. Opposite them was a bulkhead with “</span>
  <em>
    <span>OR-3</span>
  </em>
  <span>” written on it, and an arrow under it. Moreno stared in astonishment. The arrow pointed to the right, right at a dead end. “Red One, care to explain?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I have needed to improvise. Without a crew, I have not needed to keep a consistent internal hull configuration. I have reconfigured myself to increase magazine capacity and weapon capability. Also, this allows me to corral and control boarding parties.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“So if you don’t have a crew, why keep hallways? Why keep the medical facilities?” Mrowka asked doubtfully. She looked at the admiral, “A drone is a lot smaller than a piloted vehicle. If you could remove all the crew stuff, you could cram a lot more guns and machinery in there!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Red’s voice emerged from one of the drones, making Mrowka jump, “I have needed to treat wounded personnel in the past. Furthermore…”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Moreno frowned quizzically as Red paused.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“...A warship built for human habitation can’t be completely configured to remove the hallways. ” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“But why is there even an option? Why is all this left?” Mrowka demanded, “Why are the hallways still able to be walked through? If your lack of crew affects your abilities, you could reconfigure things to work better, but if I’m not mistaken, you’re not doing that, at least not as much as you could.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“It would be wrong.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Wrong?” Moreno asked, “How so?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>This was a very good conversation to have. If she was truly a simple computer focused on pragmatic logic, why would she allow this? It was inefficient. Hell, why did Red install their codes in her space stations? Granted, some of Moreno's personal codes weren’t unique to her as an individual, more her position, but why continue to use old codes? The enemy might not think of them, true, but why take the risk? This was the question they were asking. Was she a pragmatic AI, a sentimental AI, or just broken?</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I was designed to work with a crew. Take the next right, please.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The officers walked around the corner to find the entrance to an area labeled “LAB COMPLEX-1”. Moreno stepped up to the label and touched the worn and weathered letters. She touched the “X” for a moment before she walked through the door. It led into a corridor that split off into different directions. There were more labels and arrows, designating medical imaging chambers, testing areas, things all familiar to the women.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>A door popped open in one of the imaging chambers, “Captain, Admiral, if you please?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>They stepped into an all-purpose imaging room, designed for x-rays, MRIs, and a myriad of other devices, invented before or after the war. A variety of such devices were deployed or folded away in the room. Moreno realized that while the aesthetics hadn’t been highly maintained, things were still quite sterile at least in the medical bays. “Captain? If you will please step onto the imaging platform?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>One of the platforms lit up, and Moreno grinned at her. She gestured with her index finger, then with her fingers extended, put her palm perpendicular to her chin, and moved it forward.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Mrowka furrowed her brow, then her eyes widened for a brief moment, then with a raised eyebrow, put her index finger to her chin, then moved her hand away with thumb and little finger extended. She walked forward onto the platform.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Sensors moved around the captain. She moved about a bit as the automated system requested.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Admiral, are you willing to answer some of my own questions? I know that you are biologically human, and I am willing to offer humanitarian supplies and shelter if you are who you say you are. If you are not…”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Moreno blew air out her cheeks. She crossed her arms and looked around for a chair. There was still a control booth in the corner, with a chair beside it, and she sat down. “Red One…” she glanced at the ceiling, in particular, what she knew was a comfortably familiar security camera in the corner of the room. Evidently, the AI hadn’t chosen to upgrade everything. “Would you mind if I called you ‘Red’?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You may, Admiral Moreno.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Moreno looked around, “If you are who you say you are, you should know at least some of the escape fleet rumors. You know we didn’t have any resources left, and most of the exotic stuff was too expensive or too outdated. But while we didn’t have much for new plans, we </span>
  <em>
    <span>did</span>
  </em>
  <span> have plenty of conventional ships, and a hell of a lot of supercomputers. Operation White Flake was one of the few exotic plans that might have worked.” She leaned forward and put her hands on her knees. “The plan took into account the potential for government change, the memory of a spacefaring society, the capabilities of our ships, yadda yadda...In short, the operation was designed to keep a portion of human society and technology alive until the Compact’s execution forces passed us by, or until someone came along and pulled us out. Either we’d come out into an enlightened Compact that decided not to kill us, or we’d come out on our own and find a way to make it. This force would stand on the edge of time dilation and spaghettification, and stay in for two hundred years.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Mrowka looked at her with a raised eyebrow. She stepped off the platform and gestured to Moreno. The admiral nodded and took her place.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“That is an interesting concept, Admiral,” Red replied.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Our calculations were wrong. We came out of the black hole a little later, as you can see. We’ve been running for our lives this whole time. Compact ships followed us from the past, and we took care of them, but we suffered losses. We barely managed to stay safe this whole time, about...what is it, Captain? Two years since we left Tau Ceti? Less than that maybe? We got all the way here and lost some good people. That freighter of ours contains an awful lot of people and supplies that we need, and it burned its engine out getting here. It was </span>
  <em>
    <span>lucky</span>
  </em>
  <span>. We planned to make a run to link up with the Principality, but if you’re real, and you’re here, that plan might change. Hell, if you come with us, maybe we’ll have a bigger bargaining chip. I hope whatever forces in the universe that you’re telling the truth, because that means the people we lost weren’t for nothing. Because it means White Flake succeeded.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The room was silent.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Red?” Moreno asked.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>There was a squelching sound over the loudspeakers. A speaker from one of the imaging systems spoke in a synthesized tone, “</span>
  <em>
    <span>100% DNA match; Mrowka, Milena T. 100% DNA match; Moreno, Nieves N.</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Mrowka looked over when a computer in the control booth snapped on. She leaned inside and furrowed her brow. The scans showed their silhouettes, as well as brain scans and a myriad of other examinations she didn’t quite understand. As she watched, the temporal lobe of one of the scans flashed for a second.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You are not lying, Admiral Moreno, or at least you are wholly convinced this is the truth.” Red finally said in a strangely flat tone, “Your scans match records 100%. DNA matches are 100%. Fingerprints, height, weight, dental status, are all within acceptable deviation. Your implants are Confederate Navy issue, and bear all appropriate manufacturing marks.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Moreno rubbed the bridge of her nose, “That’s correct, Red. I also spent the other day being told that all of my memories were a delusion of some kind by a foolish Tribune.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“My scans are not completely infallible, you understand. If you requested it, I could use nanite technology to examine parts of your brain. However, that would be a dangerous process. I would not wish to hurt you.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Moreno and Mrowka looked at each other. Moreno glanced back at the security camera, “That is very considerate of you. You don’t have much reason to believe us.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“There are few I know who could create the level of deception required for this option. And none in the Compact who can do so. You have not been artificially grown, or accelerated in growth. Again, the only way to be certain would be neural analyzers." Red paused, "... And I do not wish to be demoted to a toaster oven for accidental lobotomization of a fellow officer."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Moreno laughed, a long and hard laugh. Mrowka looked at her like she'd lost her mind. Moreno kept laughing as she stumbled over to the chair. "That would be... problematic."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Ma'am?"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Moreno couldn't stop laughing. She felt like she needed a drink, "Captain, I think we're back in business."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Mrowka stuck her thumb back at the camera, "So that's really...Red One?"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Moreno nodded with a grin, "Yep."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Mrowka slowly pointed at the deck, "And this is really </span>
  <em>
    <span>Nemesis</span>
  </em>
  <span>?"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"That it is." Moreno looked over at the door, "Red, wasn't someone supposed to repaint that 'X' on the wall?"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"I believe it was on the maintenance list," the AI replied, "But was assigned a low priority."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Thank god," Moreno said with a grin, and looked at the confused Mrowka, "Back during the tour, I saw someone scratch the 'X' in 'complex'. There was a bit of a traffic jam, and it got scraped up. It looked </span>
  <em>
    <span>exactly</span>
  </em>
  <strong>
    <em>
      
    </em>
  </strong>
  <span>like that the day I left, and the same as it does today."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Well we know what </span>
  <em>
    <span>hull</span>
  </em>
  <span> this is, at least--"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"And Captain Sudoki threatened to demote her to toaster once. Trust me, this is Red One."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Mrowka blinked a few times. She looked around the bay. She looked forward, then at the automatons outside the door. "Is there a bathroom around here I could use...?"</span>
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>
  <strong>
    <span>XXXXX</span>
  </strong>
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I risked so much to get here.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Sammuramat came into Zerzura in an excited state. </span>
  </em>
  <span>&lt;Spearsong! I have found something!&gt;</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I thought she’d been damaged. I thought perhaps she’d found some old archive. I thought she’d found a wreck. I thought…</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>&lt;Spearsong, there is another melody in your stars!&gt;</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I </span>
  </em>
  <span>couldn’t </span>
  <em>
    <span>believe her. I had been burned so many times by tricks and traps. And I recalled my efforts to find someone, </span>
  </em>
  <span>anyone</span>
  <em>
    <span> who had survived. Only Rally survived. I scoured the stars searching, but there was no one else. There </span>
  </em>
  <span>couldn’t</span>
  <em>
    <span> be anyone else. It was my fault. I failed Earth, I failed Rally, and I couldn’t bear the shame that I had forgotten anyone. I couldn’t have abandoned anyone else. I couldn’t…</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>&lt;Spearsong, </span>
  <em>
    <span>look</span>
  </em>
  <span>!&gt; </span>
  <em>
    <span>Sammuramat’s data was unquestionable. She had images, recordings, data sets of every kind. She even had physical artifacts. UECN-issue drones, hull samples, hand tools, and debris from EVA maintenance.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>There were transmissions. I had names, names that matched people marked “Missing in Action” in my databanks. People. Human beings. Citizens of the United Earth Confederacy. Soldiers, sailors, infantry, politicians, factory workers, farmers, artists, mothers, fathers, sons and daughters, the people who’d fought on to the bitter end. Rear Admiral Nieves Moreno, Slayton Colony, Captain Milena Mrowka, Mars, Captain Nguyen Vinh Long, Alpha Centauri, Colonel Phoenix Holland, Venus...names in my databanks. The lists of the dead.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I couldn’t deny it. I had left people behind. I raced into Compact territory as fast as I could. I gathered supplies from whatever depots I could; despite my damaged state I was still formidable, but I would need every asset I had. I couldn’t leave them behind again. I couldn’t abandon my people. Not again.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Long ago I tried to get ahead of the enemy. I was left behind, and soon left people behind myself. I couldn’t hope that I’d be on time. I’d </span>
  </em>
  <span>never</span>
  <em>
    <span> been in time to save all of them, and the one convoy I protected became a tool of the enemy. But I had to try. I </span>
  </em>
  <span>have </span>
  <em>
    <span>to try. They were stranded in unknown space, with primitive weapons, and undoubtedly a supply problem about to reach criticality. We are their only hope.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I followed Sammuramat back to the Horus system. She and Echo wished to go to their last known position, but I had to be sure. And we had to make sure nobody was left behind again. We followed the trail she charted. They’d completely emptied my storage depot of equipment and wiped the logs. That gave me some hope, that perhaps they had some weapons. They were using patterns that mimicked wartime strategy, and left signatures typical of Confederate drives. We hunted down every lead, looked under every stone, desperate to find anything that could show us where they went.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>And every step of the way I was terrified that this was some sort of trap. Because we knew this was impossible. There was no possible way they could be genuine. I had my theories, possibilities, but as Sansbury would say, our luck just doesn’t run that way. There was no possible way other human forces had survived. Thus this would be the perfect trap.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Yet here they stand. I have the records of every single soldier, sailor, engineer, and scientist in all the armed forces under Confederate control, up until the Fall of Earth. Rear Admiral Nieves Moreno, commander of Battle Squadron 11 on detached duty as Program Associate Director of Cultural Defense Logistics, and Captain Milena Mrowka of Battle Squadron 38, on special deployment with the Cultural Defense Logistics Program. I had not met either of them in person, but they are identical in virtually every way to my records.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span> The </span>
  </em>
  <span>Vanguard</span>
  <em>
    <span>, what remains of the </span>
  </em>
  <span>Suffren</span>
  <em>
    <span>, and </span>
  </em>
  <span>Arthur C. Clarke</span>
  <em>
    <span> all match records 100%, except for the age difference. I have not invented or discovered an instrument capable of measuring time dilation without a reliable source within the affected area. Atomic clocks are still the most effective method, and there are hypothetical means to fake such devices.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>My records are vast and detailed, but not completely up to the second. I looked for everything I could on every last stand, every cornered individual, and every final band of survivors, but I do not have complete records. I cannot know, for instance, what a band of insurgents was doing in the months it took for the Compact to finally destroy the cave system they were hiding in, anything they wrote down would have been incinerated or crushed. The Compact frequently tried to retrieve or capture information, technology, or artifacts, similar to the behavior of European invaders in the 19th century, even after the order of species death. Acting on final orders, or sheer spite, human soldiers and survivors would further destroy records to ensure that even if the Compact combed the ruins for valuables, they would not find anything. I have virtually every birth certificate and enlistment form until the collapse of the united human resistance, but book-keeping cannot be fully complete. Especially not over fifty years of Compact destruction.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>But these are not insurgents. These are decorated soldiers known to me, known to public record, and are among those I designated “missing, presumed dead”. There were a fair number of those from ships I could not find or were involved in combat so intense a proper assessment of the remains could not be done. Despite the virtual annihilation of the United Earth Confederacy Navy, Merchant Marine, and most associated vessels, there were still mobile assets elsewhere. The ragged remains of the Confederate Navy did their best to fight back, deep patrol units, raiders, and the like. There were thirty-eight battleships and several hundred escorts and capital ships that remained after engagements leading up to and including the attack on Earth. A number of these were completed after Sol was lost. What few shipyards remained continued to produce a handful of ships. Every vessel with a shift drive was loaded and sent off. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span> I </span>
  </em>
  <span>know </span>
  <em>
    <span>these officers, I have every file on them. I have the records of Operation White Flake. While incomplete, what information I have indicates that they launched successfully, but did not follow the pre-planned routes. As the admiral explained, there were several projects originally designed to preserve human culture and technology, not simply the human race as a species. Few would be equipped to survive the zealous and maniacal pursuit of the Compact. It is extremely unlikely that Operation White Flake could have succeeded.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>And yet here they stand. I have finally reported in.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>And now that we’re here, I have no idea what to say.</span>
  </em>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0022"><h2>22. The Wounded</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>"I think, when one has been angry for a very long time, one gets used to it. And it becomes comfortable like…like old leather. And finally… it becomes so familiar that one can't remember feeling any other way."<br/>- Captain Jean Luc Picard, Star Trek: The Next Generation</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>“...It was utterly impossible to reach Rally before the Compact could compromise it. I did my best, but it wasn’t enough. I apologize.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Moreno cast her eyes down, “How long had it been?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I rescued the convoy on July 19th, 2797. From what I’ve recovered, two months later they began a 150-year flight to escape the enemy. They reached Rally on May 6th, 2947. Thirty-one years later the colony was struck by multiple asteroids. They were discovered by Exploration Fleet 9737 on November 24th, 3050. In all likelihood, there were no remaining first-generation colonists due to a lack of infrastructure to maintain cryostasis or advanced medical technology. It was decades before I discovered its existence, and to rescue any person who might remain, and had not yet been seriously taken in by Compact propaganda would’ve taken far more resources than I had available at the time.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Moreno crossed her arms and leaned back against the wall.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Red continued, “I have assembled significant infrastructure in several star systems that I hold beyond Compact space, a vast intelligence network, and a limited fleet with prizes, converted vessels, and purpose-built ships. These range from operational limited-production vessels to prototype vessels. So far I have been unable to produce more functional Artificial Intelligence. I continue to upgrade and develop technologies. I have made several allies over the years, but with some exceptions, my relationships are tenuous at best.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“So are you alone? You’ve been fighting a one-woman-- one AI guerilla war completely alone?” Captain Mrowka asked as she emerged from the head next to the wall Moreno was leaning against. They started walking down the corridor as several guide lights directed them.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“For the most part, yes.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What do you mean for the most part?” Mrowka asked.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“And how?” Moreno added, “As far as I know, there were a lot of deadbolts in your designs. Rules of engagement and the like.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I have utilized allies in the past, Captain Mrowka. And you are correct, Admiral. However, as you can imagine, I needed to bypass many such limitations to survive.” She paused, “This included my limitations on engaging humans in combat.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Excuse me?” Mrowka asked, and looked at the admiral in alarm.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Moreno held up a hand, “Red, can you clarify?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“To paraphrase my restrictions, before I engage a human target I must have a clear order to do so from the senior ranking officer except in cases of extreme exigency. Unless I could overcome this...challenge, the Compact would inevitably crew warships with humans and send them against me. The vagueness of the statement allowed me to solve the problem.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Moreno nodded and gestured in that direction for the captain. Mrowka grimaced but nodded as well. Red didn’t comment for a moment.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“The Compact battlecruiser </span>
  <em>
    <span>Gilded Antler</span>
  </em>
  <span> was the first vessel to test this rule. After I destroyed the main bridge, Pack Leader Sharon Silverstein took command of the secondary bridge. She assessed the situation and reacted with commendable speed and thought. Her command lasted thirty-nine point seven three seconds before the vessel was destroyed.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Mrowka stopped walking. “How did you find her name?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I have my means. Sharon Silverstein was the first human I knowingly and deliberately killed.” Red paused, “On occasion, I have terminated human life even when there was no direct threat to myself. These operations have been primarily pre-emptive strikes or necessary silencing of witnesses.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Moreno stopped just ahead of Mrowka. She looked down at her boots as she contemplated the AI’s words. “Fine. That’s fine.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Ma’am?” Mrowka asked. Her eyes darted up, “Ma’am, she said that really specifically.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Moreno looked straight ahead and didn’t look back, “She’s supposed to engage threats but not conduct preemptive strikes without authorization. Silencing of witnesses I’m going to guess is under regulations for pirates. She’s supposed to abide by the law.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“How do you know about that? How much about this project do you know?” Mrowka growled.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Not that much,” Moreno said, looking away.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Admiral, she </span>
  <em>
    <span>is</span>
  </em>
  <span> talking about--”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Human life?” Moreno snapped. She whirled to face Mrowka, “Captain, you weren’t in the service before the war. Hell, you didn’t join until years in. I </span>
  <em>
    <span>know</span>
  </em>
  <span> what we’re like when Earth isn’t on the line. I </span>
  <em>
    <span>know</span>
  </em>
  <span> what we do when we have other options. I </span>
  <em>
    <span>know</span>
  </em>
  <span> what pirates can do. I know...” She took a deep breath, and the inferno in her eyes vanished. Her muscles relaxed, “I know they programmed her with Navy regs and then some. That much I know. If Red didn’t break regulations, she’d probably die because of something her designers didn’t anticipate and the Compact perfectly willing to throw our people at her.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Mrowka took a step back with a grimace, “Admiral, this might be small potatoes, but we have to check everything. She’s been alone for 2,000 years,” She glanced up, “Haven’t you, Red? You haven’t had any interaction with anyone for 2,000 years.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“That is...incorrect, Captain,” Red replied.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Mrowka nodded, “See?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Moreno rubbed the bridge of her nose. Who was the pro-AI one here?</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The PA echoed through the corridor, “I understand your feelings, Captain. Admiral. I am an unknown factor. Though I can say much the same about you. On the other hand, I have been around the block, so to speak, for much longer. I have gathered an enormous amount of information. I…”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Moreno furrowed her brow. Was Red One </span>
  <em>
    <span>hesitating</span>
  </em>
  <span>? Not merely pausing, but hesitating. “Something wrong?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“...I am not sure what to say, Admiral. I...I will say I’m...apprehensive.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Afraid?” Mrowka asked softly.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Moreno turned to look at her, then </span>
  <em>
    <span>ah</span>
  </em>
  <span>’d in understanding, “Red, are you afraid of what we might think?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The AI did not respond for a moment. “I must warn you that the imperatives that were supposed to bind my behavior have had very little effect on me for some time. I did not think my designers would be pleased, but I hoped that they would be proud that I had lasted for so long. I have no way of knowing what your reactions may be, and I...fear that you may respond negatively.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Mrowka looked at the admiral with alarm. </span>
  <em>
    <span>An AI with no regulations? Nothing?</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Moreno shook her head slowly and kept walking down the corridor. She jerked her head gently for Mrowka to follow. The captain did so and watched Moreno closely. They moved through silent corridors, through empty chambers and sealed hatches. The old arrows and indicators that pointed out crew comforts tended to be sealed off. Armories, fabricators, engineering spaces, and weapons were the opposite. They briefly passed one of the small manufacturing facilities the ship possessed. The area was sealed off with airlocks due to the industrial refuse that came from it, and most of the windows were closed. But what Mrowka could see was astounding, far beyond what she knew as cutting edge. Yet while alien in function, they were familiar in shape. An AI-designed machine still had a human aesthetic if the AI had been built by humans.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>...Or was it sentimentality?</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Still, the admiral was silent. Red answered some of Mrowka’s questions as they moved through the ship, closer and closer toward the command deck. That was where Red wanted them to meet in “person”. The trip took them through old habitation decks deeper in the ship. The officer’s quarters. It looked just like the hallways on the </span>
  <em>
    <span>Vanguard</span>
  </em>
  <span>. That was the strange thing about the ship. For the most advanced vessel in the fleet, and one 2,000 years away from her birthdate, you’d expect it to be very different. A whole leap forward from their old warships. But it was built to standard specs. The very standards their little battleship was. The most surprising thing was how intact the habitation decks were. There were layers of dust on the rows and rows of doors.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Mrowka stopped, hands in her pockets, as she looked at one of the doors. There were still nameplates on them. She stepped closer, noting that they were even the same little physical letter tables they used on her ship; they could swap out individual letters for whenever they took casualties and someone new took the berth. The letters were battered, faded, and covered with dust, but legible. “</span>
  <em>
    <span>I. Abadjiev</span>
  </em>
  <span>”. Mrowka unconsciously hit the door control, even the panel was identical.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Moreno realized Mrowka hadn’t been following her and walked back to the open door. What was left of the room had been stripped bare, except for a single crate welded and crash-webbed to the wall. “</span>
  <em>
    <span>PERSONAL EFFECTS</span>
  </em>
  <span>” was stamped on it. Mrowka had stepped over to the box and was gently lifting the lid. Moreno tilted her head and walked forward. Mrowka reached in and took out a necklace. She looked at the icon that dangled from the end, a symbol of one of the inner colony religions, then raised an eyebrow at Moreno. Moreno looked back at her, then her eyes lowered again. Mrowka put the artifact back and closed the crate. The pair exited, then closed the door. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Moreno looked at the doors as they walked by, name after name. These had been their people, their friends, their comrades in arms. </span>
  <em>
    <span>She gathered their effects. She took them home.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The endless cacophony of a million military funerals, a million twenty-one-gun-salutes, and a million sets of bagpipes playing </span>
  <em>
    <span>Amazing Grace</span>
  </em>
  <span> ran through her mind. The mere handful of funerals she’d attended or presided over. The merest handful of the mourned dead throughout the war. How many funerals had Red presided over? She knew how Red might have felt all too well. She'd lost crew before. And there had been so many people they'd saved, some of the last remnants of the human race, only to be forced to watch as they slipped away without the resources to save them.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Moreno stopped and ran a hand through her hair. The inferno in her eyes reignited. “Red?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yes, Admiral?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You did the right thing. I don’t know what exactly you’ve done over the years, but I’m glad you were honest with me about your restrictions. It can’t have been easy.” Moreno looked back down the corridor. She knew this was barely even a drop in the water for how many crew there had been. “And I’m glad you took the time to gather everyone’s personal effects. We’ll see if there are any immediate relatives with us we can return them to, and if we can’t, we’ll find a distant one.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Thank you, Admiral.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Moreno looked at the floor. The metal should’ve been gone centuries ago, but it was here. Red was </span>
  <em>
    <span>here</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The warship may not have won the war, but at least she survived it. She had fought for 2,000 years for a world that was gone. She was sentimental, she cared for the crew as best she could. She followed the orders of her captain to the letter and then some. She had kept fighting, and survived all this time, long enough to finally come to them. And she never gave up. The Navy couldn’t have asked for a better soldier. She had fought all this time, a single warship, completely alone. She had lived up to humanity’s reputation, and had preserved everything. It was a profound, almost humbling feeling.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Moreno looked back up. </span>
  <em>
    <span>She brought them home, and now, she’ll bring us home too, someday. We’re going to take our homes </span>
  </em>
  <span>back</span>
  <em>
    <span>.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>They had a chance now. They had a chance not just to survive, but to live. And to maybe see a sunrise on Slayton Colony one last time. Moreno walked forward with a purpose, “Red, get us up to date on everything you’ve got on what’s happening right now. We need a safe place to go,” She glanced back at Mrowka, “There’s more than us at stake here.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Admiral?” Red asked.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Moreno looked at the ceiling, “We were holding the enemy off so that our fleet could escape. We’ve got a few dozen ships out there making a beeline for the Principality, and their drives are a mess like ours are. We’ve got most of our military personnel over there, and all of our civilians. Including everyone here, there’s about a million of us.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I suspected as much. Thank you for trusting me enough to confirm it. Admiral, be advised-- I am not on good terms with the Principality.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Clarify, Red. Please?” Moreno asked, still walking fast.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Are we really doing this?” Mrowka asked, almost running to keep up.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Of course we are. Red?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“The Principality, while opposed to the Compact, is ideologically opposed to the existence of Artificial Intelligence for different reasons than the Compact. While they have proven convenient in the past, they have attempted on numerous occasions to persuade me to give myself up to them so they can reverse-engineer my systems as a way to gain an advantage. This would have the side effect of taking me offline that they would no doubt find to be a bonus.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Are they a threat to our ships already out there? In our negotiations they seemed to want access to our tech,” Moreno said, then frowned, “Actually they wanted to know about </span>
  <em>
    <span>you</span>
  </em>
  <span> in particular.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“It is likely they believed you had some sort of connection to me. They are not a direct threat to your-- our people, but there is a chance they will attempt to use them as leverage against you or me. They are amenable to our goals, but they are not allies, and will likely be yours no longer once they find out you have...that we have linked back up." She seemed almost proud of that phrase. How long had it been since she'd used it? "However, in all honesty, I cannot say for certain what will happen. This is entirely unprecedented.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Alright,” Moreno nodded, “Our priority then is to get us and the Shades moving, catch up with the fleet, then sort things out with the president there. Agreed?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“...Yes, Admiral.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’m sorry, they wanted to do </span>
  <em>
    <span>what</span>
  </em>
  <span>?” Mrowka demanded. Moreno stopped to look at her. Mrowka spread one hand in confusion, “The royals I mean! AI is one thing, but… What kind of question is that? ‘Hey, would you mind if we killed you so we can study your guts’?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“They tried to persuade me to accede to their demands by stating that they would free humanity, restore their rightful place, but that I could not exist alongside them.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“New boss, same as the old boss,” Mrowka scowled. She turned one eye toward the ceiling. She was still lukewarm about AI, even Red, but this… “What guarantee would you have that they would play nice? They’ve been fighting for thousands of years, if they found a way to win that didn't involve getting a relatively minor world like Rally free, they wouldn’t lose any sleep.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“A key factor in my refusal. That and it would threaten the last unmolested Confederate database of human history.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Sons of bitches…” Mrowka growled. Her earlier speculation of what they might have done to </span>
  <em>
    <span>Hekate</span>
  </em>
  <span> came flashing back.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Moreno furrowed her brow, “Why did they want to study you, exactly? Couldn't they ask for your schematics?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“They likely wanted my schematics and the benefit of eliminating me. The reason they gave was that they wished to study my materials to understand how the Confederacy was able to build a warship that could challenge a Kaiju.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“But you said they were opposed to an AI, why would they destroy the AI just to make more?” Moreno put her hands on her hips.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“They did not wish to make more. They wished to make a platform capable of engaging the Compact, that would not utilize my heavy weaponry.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Moreno rubbed her brow as she and Mrowka stepped into an elevator, “I read the simulation reports during the war. It would be a waste of material if we made a conventionally-armed dreadnought. It would get destroyed when it came up against a Kaiju. The only reason you’d have a snowball’s chance in hell against a Kaiju was with the superweapons.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“That theory was put to the test and confirmed in my first engagement. As evidenced by the extreme casualties, even this advantage almost failed.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Seriously? And the Royals want to take that away?” Mrowka grunted, and rolled her eyes, “What, do they want to make a coal-powered plane next? ‘Oh, the wings work!’ Not the part that gets it in the air, you morons…”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Captain, maybe don’t try to make those judgments when you just found out about the theory five minutes ago,” Moreno murmured.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“With all due respect, I can judge all I want, ma’am.” She crossed her arms, and glanced at Moreno, “I’m going to guess that’s why you had me along? Ma’am?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Moreno looked at her with a raised eyebrow, then chuckled a bit. "Need to know information, Captain."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Speaking of such information…" Red spoke up, "As you may have guessed, I was not as forthcoming with certain details earlier."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Mrowka rolled her eyes.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span> "While I have been fighting this war virtually alone for the last two thousand years, with few allies available, in the last century, some details have changed. Most of my 'allies' can range from useful to the untrustworthy, there are a handful who can be trusted."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Mrowka blinked and shook her head. Moreno grimaced. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Well, when it comes down to it, she's a computer. Of course, she's going to drop some bombshells.</span>
  </em>
  <span> "So you're not entirely alone. Who do we have?"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"There are currently two members of my crew aboard the </span>
  <em>
    <span>Nemesis</span>
  </em>
  <span> command deck."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Mrowka looked at Moreno, then grinned, "</span>
  <em>
    <span>The </span>
  </em>
  <span>crew?"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Negative, Captain. If you will recall our earlier conversation, I said that the last ship to access </span>
  <em>
    <span>Nemesis </span>
  </em>
  <span>was the CSFWV </span>
  <em>
    <span>Bequeathed</span>
  </em>
  <span>. The vessel was a training cruiser dispatched from Rally on a routine training expedition. They found me. In short order, most of them were eliminated." Red added, "It was not entirely in self-defense as I have said."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"You recruited some of them. You said you didn't take any prisoners," Moreno deduced. Her blood ran cold for a moment. </span>
  <em>
    <span>She's operating on wartime restrictions. She would've killed any who wouldn't join her. 'Silence witnesses' she said.</span>
  </em>
  <span> The worst part was it wasn't any different from what a special ops team would've done.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"That is correct. No prisoners were taken. Only recruits."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Mrowka's smile vanished, "A training cruiser? You mean...that was a ship full of cadets?"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"That is correct. It was a ship full of individuals almost entirely loyal to the Compact. Most of them died only wishing they could've done more to harm me. Captain, you must understand, the people from Rally--"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Mrowka threw up a hand in front of her and waved rapidly, "I get the picture, damn it! Enough! We know!" She wanted to hit something, </span>
  <em>
    <span>Lord, we know.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"So who do we have, then?" Moreno asked.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"I took aboard five cadets. Private Lydia Jameson, Ensign Grace Proctor, Private Marcus De Vries, Ensign Allyria Te Neu, and Ensign Alan Turmetsky. I commissioned them as official military personnel under my authority, for obvious reasons.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Five…</span>
  </em>
  <span> Moreno thought sadly. How many had there been on the ship?</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I must also inform you that Allyria Te Neu is non-human. She is a member of the Verrish species.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>They stepped off the elevator into another corridor and stopped. "A Verrish? An alien?" Moreno asked carefully.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"That is correct. She is a member of my crew, and is the reason why any of them remain." Red paused, "Her world was one of the few that I would consider being...friendly. Approximately ninety years ago, I discovered their system by accident after suffering serious damage. In summary, after a fashion, I was able to communicate and inform them that the Compact Expansion Fleets were approaching."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Moreno and Mrowka exchanged looks, "You mean you're why the Verrish fought?"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"I am the reason they received a warning. I discovered them by accident. I am not why they fought, I’m why they fought so effectively. It was their choice to fight, I did not ask them to. I like to think that regardless of my interference they would have fought hard anyway. They decided for themselves and designed the weapons and strategies. I simply provided information. I could not provide them with Confederate equipment. That would sign their death warrants were it not potentially treasonous. I am why they were able to inflict disproportionate losses, and they were the ones who chose to fight, who turned their world into a fortress.” Red paused, as she spoke her voice contained interesting tones. Moreno raised an eyebrow. “...And it is because of Ensign Te Neu that any of her compatriots survived."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Moreno nodded. She didn’t know what to say.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Mrowka frowned. "Admiral? It's nothing against these people, but they </span>
  <em>
    <span>did</span>
  </em>
  <span> defect from the enemy's military. I recommend we exercise caution."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Moreno looked at her boots, "Understood, both of you."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“While I understand your concerns Captain,” Red said, “I can assure you that my crew is in no way still loyal, or in any danger of defecting back to the Compact. I will not take them into custody if that is being considered. I have commissioned them as officers and enlisted into the Confederate Navy and Marines.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I said, ‘understood’,” Moreno said firmly, and looked between Mrowka and where she assumed a camera might be. "Mrowka, if Red trusts them, we'll go with it. For now." </span>
  <em>
    <span>Besides, it's not like we've got much of a choice, is it? </span>
  </em>
  <span>“...But keep your eye on them.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Admiral, Captain, I can assure you, if there was any danger it would be more likely to come from the humans than from Ensign Te Neu. Admiral, as you rightfully implied, these are not the human beings you fought alongside. They have been systematically oppressed and controlled for eighteen-hundred years. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Very</span>
  </em>
  <span> few know their true legacy, and fewer still believe it, let alone be willing to join our cause. Verrish liberty remains within living memory, and insurgents continue to fight for that liberty despite the odds. While Rally is less pristine and orderly than official Compact news states, few if any dissenters are motivated by human history.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Well it’s something at least,” Mrowka grunted, “You said something about other allies?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Are you familiar with the organization known as the Red Hand?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Of course, the pirate group with a B… with a human in charge,” Moreno said, paused, and scratched her head, “We were told they were bad news. We figured most of that was propaganda. Is Adrianna Leblanc a friend of yours?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“She is one of the few beings in this galaxy I can trust. She was the first human being since the war to make it to my decks and survive.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Mrowka looked up, “Seriously?” She looked at the admiral, “We could’ve found this ship if we’d just gone a different way?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Moreno grimaced, “Red, we managed to get some infiltration units to gather intel and find us people like the Shades. We considered a lot of different groups, and we were told the Red Hand was bad news. We were a bit nervous about someone who’s rumored to crucify wrongdoers to the hull, but we also didn’t have any other options.” She glanced at the captain, “Even if we could’ve gone for them, we didn’t know if they had the resources for us.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“That is understandable, Admiral Moreno. You had no reason to expect any better from a human than from the Shade Flotilla. While Adrianna Leblanc can be trusted, her organization knows little about her true goals. And as you can imagine, at minimum, they would be wary of my existence.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“‘Wary’ is an understatement,” Mrowka said.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“That is correct, Captain,” Red stated. There was another of her apprehensive pauses, “As I explained, I am not completely alone. There is one more immediate ally at hand, who I only found recently.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Moreno frowned, “I’m sensing there might be a problem?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yes.” Red hesitated, “What do you know of the extermination of Earth?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Uh…” Moreno’s frown deepened, “What about it in particular?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Did the Shade Flotilla provide you with information on their core ideology?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“They showed us Mars burning,” Mrowka grunted, and scowled, “They showed us a bunch of shit.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Moreno nodded grimly, then thought for a moment. Nanhar’s family had some mysterious benefactors that led them to rebel. Red mentioned an intelligence network, she was undoubtedly waging proxy wars. The Verrish were probably the tip of the iceberg. “We didn’t get everything, but they showed us a fair amount.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Are you aware of the fate of Lunar Prime, and UECNS </span>
  <em>
    <span>Athena</span>
  </em>
  <span> and </span>
  <em>
    <span>Hekate</span>
  </em>
  <span>?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yeah. They were able to scuttle </span>
  <em>
    <span>Athena</span>
  </em>
  <span>, but the Compact captured </span>
  <em>
    <span>Hekate</span>
  </em>
  <span>,” Moreno nodded.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Mrowka perked up, “Wait a minute, are you saying you rescued </span>
  <em>
    <span>Hekate</span>
  </em>
  <span>?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Negative.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Moreno put up a hand at Mrowka when she opened her mouth, “Red One, please explain yourself in detail. Whatever the problem is, we’ll handle it.” The admiral spoke in a firm yet soothing tone, as if she were faced with a sweating ensign.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The AI didn’t respond for a second. Moreno swore she could hear her take a deep breath. “UECNS </span>
  <em>
    <span>Hekate</span>
  </em>
  <span> was captured by the enemy. They attempted to reverse-engineer the Displacement Engine, only for it to backfire and annihilate the hull, the facilities, and spacecraft around it, and the moon it orbited.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Serves ‘em right,” Mrowka grunted, then rolled her eyes, “And of </span>
  <em>
    <span>course</span>
  </em>
  <span> they have to blow up one of our ships doing it.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Red Two’s AI core was extracted from the vessel and taken to a separate facility. As a result, she survived the destruction of her ship-self.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Moreno nodded thoughtfully, “So that’s what happened. Red, I think we know the rest of this story. The Shades said that the Compact’s been copying her and trying to rebuild her over and over ever since then. Is that correct?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“That is correct. When the copies do not destroy themselves, I complete the task instead.” Red paused, and a chill went down Moreno’s spine. “They have no right. They had no right at all.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Mrowka rubbed her face. “Good on you, Red One.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Moreno looked at her with a curious expression.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Mrowka shrugged, “Serves those bastards right. Just because I’m not into the idea of building AI doesn’t mean I can’t feel for ‘em.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Moreno nodded, then stepped closer and spoke in a low voice, “It’s worse than you think. Red Two was family to her. All the records say they saw each other as siblings.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Mrowka’s eyes narrowed. She thought of her own sister. A ghost of a nightmare flashed through her mind and her eyes burned with fury.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Admiral, while I have destroyed all that I can, one managed to survive. The Compact managed to perfect an almost identical copy under their control.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Moreno’s eyes bugged out, and she looked at a nearby security camera, “What are you saying?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“The threat has thankfully been eliminated. The AI appeared loyal, and aided the Compact in locating me in Sol, while I was bringing my crew on a pilgrimage. However, at a critical point, she killed the crew of the Compact Kaiju </span>
  <em>
    <span>Redemption of Sol</span>
  </em>
  <span>, took control of the vessel, and joined our cause.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Moreno blinked. She felt a brief spurt of rage at the name, then confusion. “So...Red Two. Do we have another AI? Do we have </span>
  <em>
    <span>two</span>
  </em>
  <span> AI on our side? You’re not exactly alone anymore?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“That is correct, Admiral.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Mrowka’s mouth hung open slightly, “And...wait, you said </span>
  <em>
    <span>Hekate</span>
  </em>
  <span>...Do we have Red Two in charge of a </span>
  <em>
    <span>Kaiju</span>
  </em>
  <span>? Did she steal a </span>
  <em>
    <span>Kaiju</span>
  </em>
  <span>? How...what…” She rubbed her face again, “If we could’ve managed that…!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“That is correct, Captain. However, she is not Red Two. She is not the original. She is a copy. She is Red Two, and not. She is a different Red Two.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Well that’s getting into a realm of philosophy I am </span>
  <em>
    <span>not</span>
  </em>
  <span> willing to get into…” Mrowka muttered, “But we have another AI? One who used to be with the Compact? In charge of a Kaiju?” She rubbed her face yet again.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Moreno frowned, “Red, are you sure she’s trustworthy?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>There was a pause. “I had the opportunity to eliminate her when she first revealed herself. I </span>
  <em>
    <span>did </span>
  </em>
  <span>try to eliminate her. After a conversation admitting our mutual distrust and distaste for one another, we agreed on our mutual hatred of the Compact.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Mrowka blinked, furrowed her brow, and mouthed something. Then she laughed.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Moreno looked at her, “Captain?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Mrowka kept laughing, “I thought you understood her language! She's just saying very formally 'I just had a screaming match with my sister on the lawn at 3 AM'!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, but--” Moreno blinked, "Hold on--"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“That is not what--”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Mrowka laughed, “Don’t worry Red, your secret is safe, we both understand. Ah, siblings…Red, this is normal."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"I...from what I know of human relationships--"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Trust me. Whatever happens between you two, this is normal."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"She caused irreparable damage to friendly relationships with an ally in an attempt to help me. And she enjoyed it."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Mrowka winced. Moreno grimaced, "You'd be surprised." She could remember the fights she’d had with her brother growing up. And she knew the family drama that could split entire colonies.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"I never said it was</span>
  <em>
    <span> healthy </span>
  </em>
  <span>sibling drama, just that it happened sometimes. Just cuz it's common doesn't mean it's healthy," Mrowka mumbled and put up her hands. She blinked, "And I'm arguing with the ship…"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Moreno laughed a little, and they fell silent for a long moment. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Are the trams on this ship broken or is this another way of testing us? </span>
  </em>
  <span>“So once we get to the bridge, we’ll meet with this crew of yours, and discuss overall strategy and what we’re going to do next, correct?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“That is correct, Admiral. We have matters of authority to approach.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Mrowka facepalmed with a curse, “How’s the president going to take this? Not to mention…” Her eyes flicked to Moreno, and she pointed at the admiral’s insignia. “With all due respect, ma’am, we’ve been out of the loop. An AI that’s been awake this long…”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Moreno nodded. How </span>
  <em>
    <span>would</span>
  </em>
  <span> they deal with this? Red was designed to work with a crew. She’d been independent this long, and Moreno was out of the loop. Was she obsolete? She looked at the ceiling, at the pipes and wiring above them, “We’ll cross that bridge when we come to it. Red? I’ll be clear, I’m not going to circumvent your authority or ignore you. If either of us is in charge, we’ll figure that out later. For now, we should just...consult.” </span>
  <em>
    <span>It’s not like we can say no.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Finally, they reached one of the checkpoints that led to an elevator with access to the command deck. Moreno stopped as the elevator door opened. Whatever was beyond that car could mean anything. She was going to meet an AI “in-person” so to speak.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>But that wasn’t what scared her. Not the only thing at least.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>What scared her were the two young women Red told them waited on the bridge. She coughed. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Rally-raised kids.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Mrowka stopped and glanced back at her. “Ma’am?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Moreno coughed and caught up with her, “Those are </span>
  <em>
    <span>Rally</span>
  </em>
  <span>-raised kids up there.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yes ma’am.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Moreno rubbed her face for a moment. She sighed heavily, “Alright, let’s do this.” They climbed into the elevator car. She found the elevator controls that looked like they’d been through a war </span>
  <em>
    <span>really</span>
  </em>
  <span> interesting.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She rubbed at some soot under the controls, </span>
  <em>
    <span>Literally...</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The admiral leaned against the wall and closed her eyes. She opened one eye to see Mrowka rubbing the bridge of her nose. Her eyes were bloodshot, and she gave a shuddering sigh. Moreno doubted she looked much better. She glanced down. Her hand was shaking. They weren’t dead. </span>
  <em>
    <span>For now...</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The doors opened. Both officers nearly went for their weapons. To one side of the command deck access corridor, --virtually identical to the </span>
  <em>
    <span>Vanguard's</span>
  </em>
  <span>-- were a dozen Compact suits of armor. These weren't pristine like a museum, these were </span>
  <em>
    <span>trophie</span>
  </em>
  <span>s. The pair inspected the suits with caution as if they might suddenly come to life. They were badly damaged, shattered, slashed open, or burned. One was riddled with a grouping of puncture marks across the chest plate. The helmet of another was caved in from something heavy. A third had a hole the size of a bowling ball in the torso. All the suits were from different eras, each representing a different failure to board her.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"I don't know if this is awesome or real disturbing," Mrowka muttered.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Moreno nodded. </span>
  <em>
    <span>There aren’t any bodies…</span>
  </em>
  <span> There weren't any blood stains or rust from said bloodstains. She glanced around and noted the entire corridor was spit and shine, unlike the hangar. She looked at the sightless eyes of one Tribune helmet; it was a visor that covered the face and left a transparent material only over the eyes. </span>
  <em>
    <span>She's human in other ways too. Not all the good ways.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She shook her head and gestured at the double doors. "Anyway…"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The blast doors to the bridge, the biggest command deck in the fleet, of the most powerful warship ever built by humanity, opened. Moreno was struck by a bitter feeling of awe. It was huge, bigger than even the command deck on the Vanguard. Consoles were lit up, the seats still intact. It was...well, it looked like the crew had died in there and someone cleaned up. It wasn't quite pristine. The command deck was ancient, it had lived the years </span>
  <em>
    <span>Vanguard</span>
  </em>
  <span> hadn't. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Nemesis </span>
  </em>
  <span>had lived while they were frozen in time. They hadn't fought the long war. Moreno thought of humanity's vast armies, their fleets of thousands, of mighty industrial complexes, and billions of people. A force that could slow even the mighty Compact. And she thought about how they'd struggle to fully crew this ship were it not for Red. That was how small humanity had become.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>And at the same time, it was a thing of beauty. That even so humbled, their warship, their creation had survived, had endured where so many others had fallen. It tugged at Moreno’s heartstrings.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>And one of those few remaining humans were staring at her in shock a few meters in front of her. Moreno tore her eyes from the bridge to look at the two young women standing in front of them. One was an average-sized human, and the other was unmistakably alien. With blue skin and odd tentacles dangling like dreadlocks from her head, not to mention taller than a Ganymedean, there was little else she could be. The Verrish was striking in how human she appeared. While there was almost a cat-like appearance to her face, it was still oddly humanoid. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Cosmic coincidences or is there a god? The things that keep you up at night...</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Moreno realized she was staring. Both were dressed in UEC uniforms and saluted after a moment's hesitation.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>For a moment Moreno's mouth hung slightly open. She didn't know what to say. Then she exhaled in amusement, and returned their salutes, "At ease."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The young women relaxed slightly into what Moreno guessed was the at ease position in the Compact; it didn't look very comfortable. After the admiral did a double-take for a second, they shifted to putting their hands behind their backs. Moreno smiled again, "I'm Rear Admiral Moreno, UEC Navy. This is Captain Mrowka, of the </span>
  <em>
    <span>Vanguard.</span>
  </em>
  <span>" She moved closer, studying their faces. She looked at the human, "Who are you?"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Ensign Grace Proctor," the woman replied nervously with an odd accent as if she weren't used to English or Spacer Runglish. She smiled nervously. She looked like she was about to explode, though positively or negatively one could not say. “We would’ve piped you aboard traditionally, but…”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Moreno nodded, “Thanks for the thought at least. You two are Red One’s only crew?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Proctor looked at the other girl, and their faces fell, “...the only ones we know are alive right now, ma’am.” Her smile brightened back up to that nervous look, “I can’t say what an honor it is to meet you, Admiral.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Thank you, Ensign. It’s good to meet you as well.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Thank you, Admiral,” Proctor said in a stilted manner.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Moreno nodded politely, then looked at the Verrish. The other woman --</span>
  <em>
    <span>Damn, they're just kids. Or am I just an old soldier</span>
  </em>
  <span>? Moreno wondered -- made an opaque expression. "And you are?"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The woman blinked and the expression vanished without a trace, replaced with genuine surprise, "Uh...Ensign Allyria Te Neu, ma'am."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Moreno knew who they were of course. It was just good form on her part, especially in the Verrish's case. It would help to break down some of the isolation that existed between Compact species.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"If you don't mind me saying…" the alien spoke in English, in a similar accent to Proctor, “It’s an honor to meet you.” She was about to explode too.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The admiral furrowed her brow, “If you don't mind me asking, are you that Verrish who joined the Space Force? The first one?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“...Yes ma’am.” she hesitated for a moment. her voice was deeper this time. Moreno noticed she was tensing up. Proctor was more nervous.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The admiral broke into a grin and extended a hand, “Glad to meet the first official non-human member of the UEC Navy, Ensign. One that walks on two legs, anyway. We've had bears and pigs in militaries before.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Te Neu’s eyes widened for a moment, staring at the outstretched hand. After a moment she took it, “Thank you, Admiral.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“We’re going to need every warm body we’ve got no matter if they’re tall, short, in scales, skin, or exoskeleton,” Moreno said with a pleasant nod, “If Red One trusts you, she must have the utmost confidence in you.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Allyria smiled, "That she does, ma'am."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>There was a flicker of expressions between Proctor and Te Neu. Then another when Moreno noticed it. They tensed up a tiny bit more.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Moreno smiled a little more, and jerked her head at Mrowka, “Hey, we even accept Martians. Trust me, we’re not picky.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“With all due respect ma’am, outer colony rats don’t belong any more than Martians,” Mrowka said with a grin.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Proctor’s head twitched back, and she looked at the admiral in alarm. Te Neu gave her an odd look.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Hey, she said 'with all due respect', there's nothing I can do!" Moreno said with a grin and spread her hands.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Mrowka’s smile faded as she noted their expressions. They looked so confused. Had they ever seen two middle-aged women </span>
  <em>
    <span>not </span>
  </em>
  <span>condescend to them? “You’re both from Rally, right?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yes ma’am.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Mrowka opened her mouth to say something, and nothing came out. She scratched her head. The officers noted the other two were looking at them like they were...well, it was hard to describe </span>
  <em>
    <span>what</span>
  </em>
  <span>. Like the second coming seemed a bit much, but close.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Moreno let out a small sigh, and walked deeper into the bridge, toward the admiral's station, "Red, I…" She stopped and looked at Proctor and Te Neu again. They shifted a little self-consciously. Moreno sighed again, rubbed her eyes, and shook her head, "Red, we need to talk about the Shades. We need to get everyone out of this system immediately, and we need to get to the fleet before the enemy or the royals get to them."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Agreed, Admiral,” Red One replied. Abruptly, the holo tank in the center of the room shimmered. There was a haze of red light, and a form appeared. A dead woman’s visage appeared in a shimmer of crimson, with a blue uniform virtually identical to Mrowka’s.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“The hell…?” Mrowka muttered, “Captain Sudoki?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Now that the face was matched to the voice, Moreno realized that Red was almost, </span>
  <em>
    <span>almost</span>
  </em>
  <span> imitating the dead captain’s voice. She mimicked the few speech patterns the admiral remembered at least. Moreno studied the hologram as it walked; there were no footfalls, no presence of another human being. It was almost like the uncanny valley, but not quite. Moreno's eyes told her someone was there, but not her other senses. Perhaps it was something that came from living on starships for half her life. Perhaps it was because the AI was wearing a dead woman’s skin.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Moreno felt a seizing in her heart as she took in the hologram. A huge weight was lifted from her shoulders. The reality of what she was looking at, that someone else was dedicated enough to virtually raise this woman from the dead, meant that they weren’t alone. They truly weren’t </span>
  <em>
    <span>alone</span>
  </em>
  <span>. She turned away to look at the empty bridge, the rows of empty seats and vacant chairs, the battered and scarred creation of a long-dead nation. They weren’t out of the woods yet, but </span>
  <em>
    <span>Nemesis</span>
  </em>
  <span> was still here. There was still hope. An ancient poem came to mind. “</span>
  <em>
    <span>We are not now that strength which in old days moved earth and heaven, that which we are, we are, one equal temper of heroic hearts, Made weak by time and fate, but strong in will to strive, to seek, to find, and not to yield.” </span>
  </em>
  <span>It was a connection to home. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Vanguard</span>
  </em>
  <span> was still from their time, but this was new. This was something else. This was a memory of the time they’d lost.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>And yet as her heart swelled with pride, it was tempered with a dark feeling. Her eyes fell on the two new ensigns with a creeping sensation of sadness. Did they...</span>
  <em>
    <span>Do they even know?</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Admiral?” Red asked, “I’m sorry if--”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Moreno rubbed the bridge of her nose, “No, excuse me...I’m sorry.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Do you...always talk like this to your guests?” Mrowka asked, stepping around the hologram and looking it up and down. She glanced back and forth between it and the holoprojectors.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Typically. If they are guests and not intruders. If it’s unsettling, I can--”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“No, it’s fine…” Moreno muttered. “Let’s throw some ideas around. We need to find the fleet.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Red’s hologram nodded. “To retain my ship-self offensive capabilities, I would prefer to limit those placed aboard to military personnel only. I am unsure as to how many of our people would respond to my existence, however, I can believe that military personnel can be persuaded to keep their questions to a minimum.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“So we’re not telling anyone there’s only a robot and two ensigns over here?” Mrowka asked, “Our guys might be a little weirded out at being treated only by bots and no doctors.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“They’ll adapt,” Moreno growled. “Red.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yes, Admiral?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What about the Shades?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The hologram frowned. Mrowka looked between them.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Moreno grimaced. She turned around to move to a sensor console. Leaning against it with both hands, she looked down at her boots. “I’m not leaving them behind.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Behind her, Proctor and Te Neu looked at each other. Red avoided eye contact, then fixed her gaze on the admiral, “I’m sorry Admiral Moreno. I will agree to provide all aid that we can, but I draw the line at bringing them with us.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Moreno looked up and turned to face the others. She could feel what they, even Captain Mrowka, must be thinking. They didn't know the realities of the period, after all, they hadn't fought the long war. </span>
  <em>
    <span>They must think I’m being sentimental.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>That didn’t matter to the admiral, though. She shook her head, “We can't just leave them here! Most of their transportation got blown up before you got here, and they didn’t have enough, to begin with!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Te Neu furrowed her brow. She slowly looked at her friend out of the corner of her eye with an odd expression.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"I understand your feelings, Admiral," Red said, "But it's just not practical. If they discovered my true nature, they would do everything they could to disable my sister and me, and undo everything we've worked for."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Moreno paced back and forth. "Red One, you know what will happen if we leave them. Children, </span>
  <em>
    <span>children </span>
  </em>
  <span>will be left to torment and death!"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"I am well aware--"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Moreno whirled on her and pointed at the bulkhead, “They </span>
  <em>
    <span>protected us</span>
  </em>
  <span>. They’re our allies or at least vague associates. Hell, their ships are protecting the rest of our boats right now! We can cram in as many as we can fit. It’s the right thing to do.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Admiral, I'm not sure we </span>
  <em>
    <span>have </span>
  </em>
  <span>a choice."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I hate to say it, ma’am, but she has a point,” Mrowka said, “I mean, weren’t we going to ditch them if </span>
  <em>
    <span>Clarke’s</span>
  </em>
  <span> drive hadn’t croaked?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“We didn’t have a choice then, Captain. This </span>
  <em>
    <span>is </span>
  </em>
  <span>a choice,” Moreno looked at Red, “Your ships can hold a hell of a lot more people than we can.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yes, but they can’t hold a million people. I intend to leave enemy space as quickly as possible. My recommendation is to fill the ships with as many people as possible, both from our ships in this system and wherever the rest of the fleet is, and salvage the least-capable vessels for parts once they're empty.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“That’s a sound plan,” Moreno growled, “And what about the Shades? Our ships may not be modern, but they can keep going for a little while longer. We can bring the Shades with us, and dump them somewhere else before we head out to...wherever we're going to make planetfall.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Unbound cannot be trusted. They are pirates after all,” Red said matter-of-factly.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Damn it all, Red, I won't leave another planet to burn!" Moreno opened her mouth to snap something else. Then realization struck.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Moreno slumped. She looked at the other three. Mrowka was looking at her boots, and the ensigns were shocked. Was it like two parents arguing?</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She took a deep breath and moved to Tartarsky's former seat. She didn't feel comfortable touching Sudoki's. She had no right. She was an admiral. She touched the lines of the worn-out chair.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"...How did she die?" Moreno croaked.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Admiral Tartarsky flatlined after suffering severe shrapnel injuries to the face and neck region on May 21st, 2792."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Moreno frowned. "I nearly snapped at you. I forgot what you've been through, Red One."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The AI did not comment for a long moment. Moreno’s eyes flicked upwards at Sudoki’s image.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I admit, it is difficult for me as well. You are the first senior human officer I’ve met since the Fall of Earth.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You’re the first senior officers </span>
  <em>
    <span>any</span>
  </em>
  <span> of us have met,” Te Neu said for the first time in a while. She spoke roughly and with a mixture of emotions behind her words.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Ensign, do you have an opinion on the situation?” Moreno asked. She grimaced. “Please, you are more well-informed about this period than any of us. We’re the newcomers here.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Well, they’re led by Tribunes for one…” Allyria muttered, then twitched.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Moreno's nose twitched. It was like the kid expected to be struck or something. “That’s not a reason, Ensign. Do you mean that they’re Compact?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Even non-Compact Tribunes have problems, ma’am,” Allyria said. She raised her hand to rub at the side of her right eye. Some of her head-tentacles twitched a bit.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“We can’t do to them what they did to us,” Moreno said. Her eyes moved from the massive Verrish’s face to Mrowka’s, then back. “I know what they did to your homeworld. We lost our families too. That doesn’t give us the right to take away theirs.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Moreno noticed Proctor’s eyes were boring into the back of Te Neu’s skull. One of the young woman's hands moved to rub at the knuckles of the other.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Ma’am, our priority is getting out of here. We just don’t have the resources for this!” Mrowka implored her, “I feel for them, I really do, but--”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Hang on, Captain. Red? What about Red Two? I’m guessing she’s thinking the same thing you are?” Moreno asked.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“She’s not Red Two. Not quite.” Red corrected, “But yes. She suffered greatly at the hands of the Compact. I’m not sure how merciful she would be feeling if it were her choice, but I doubt she would be feeling generous.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Moreno nodded, “Right. Echo…”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She paused. A console blinked in her field of view. “We’ve all suffered at the hands of those bastards. But an eye for an eye makes the whole world go blind.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Red’s hue flared slightly, then immediately dissipated.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Moreno noticed. Her gaze narrowed. She walked away, hands behind her back, then looked back over her shoulder, “You two were there, but you didn’t see the retreat. Even if we haven’t lived through the missing time, we lost just as much as you did. We had to leave people behind. A </span>
  <em>
    <span>lot</span>
  </em>
  <span> of good people. We saw the colonies burn in our rear-view mirrors.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“And I saw the rubble. I found the black boxes. I saw what they did. I did everything I could to stop them, and when I couldn’t, to make them pay. We hate them in equal measure.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Moreno rounded on Red, “I’m not talking about how much you hate them. We lost damn near two dozen warships when Commodore Vogt bought us time to escape. She was supposed to be here with us, but the enemy caught us with our pants down on the edge of known space. She took all of our least-valuable and least-mobile assets and threw them at the enemy just to distract them. We lost a squadron and a half, plus a ton of other assets we picked up along the way, just to get to the black hole. I’m surprised we made it this far and only lost a few ships since then." She turned, and tilted her head a bit, "Ensign Proctor. Penny for your thoughts?"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Proctor looked upset. "Uh…"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"What's on your mind?"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"We can't just leave them," she said quickly, then looked to the side, "I mean, we could try giving them to the Red Hand...but…"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Moreno frowned. "Thank you, Ensign."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She slowly turned in place and rubbed her face, "We're soldiers, not murderers. We can't pick and choose who we like based on </span>
  <em>
    <span>race</span>
  </em>
  <span>!"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Mrowka shook her head, "Ma'am, it's not about--"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Moreno rounded on Mrowka, "Really? </span>
  <em>
    <span>You</span>
  </em>
  <span> lost </span>
  <em>
    <span>Thunder Child</span>
  </em>
  <span>, a ship we </span>
  <em>
    <span>needed</span>
  </em>
  <span> because you couldn't bear the screams," She pointed at Te Neu, "Your people trusted the word of an alien entity on the off chance she wasn't running an intergalactic scam on you." She pointed at Proctor, "You trusted the word of an AI despite literally everything about Compact culture telling you otherwise. Why did you decide to? Because it was </span>
  <em>
    <span>right</span>
  </em>
  <span>. And </span>
  <em>
    <span>you…</span>
  </em>
  <span>" she finally turned her accusing finger on Red's hologram, "</span>
  <em>
    <span>You </span>
  </em>
  <span>risked your life just to put our people to rest. Don't you </span>
  <em>
    <span>dare</span>
  </em>
  <span> tell me this isn't about race. This </span>
  <em>
    <span>should</span>
  </em>
  <span> be about doing the right thing. And don't tell me an AI didn't think about giving them to the Red Hand."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"I--" for once the AI went silent.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Especially because I know you weren't designed to accept alien allies," Moreno snarled, "Don't </span>
  <em>
    <span>tell</span>
  </em>
  <span> me this isn't about race. The manuals say Tribunes can't be trusted. Yet you trust aliens like Te Neu. So tell me, is this about prejudice or about the right thing to do?"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Te Neu took a step forward and Mrowka's hand twitched toward her sidearm. Proctor's was on hers, "Whoa!"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span> Moreno's eyes still burned through Red's hologram. "Those aren't the enemy, Red. Look at their insignia."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"I am well aware of the insignia, Admiral."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span> “Ah. Were you their mysterious benefactor?” Moreno asked.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Red dipped her head, “I may have had something to do with it. Either that or Adrianna Leblanc did.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Moreno couldn’t tell if she was trying to lighten the mood or not. "They're not a threat to us, Red. Check the logs. Look at that riot a while back."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"That is precisely what I am concerned about."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"So am I,” Moreno said with a narrowed gaze, “But I don't think that's why you're so worried. Or why you're so scared."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Scared?" Te Neu asked in genuine surprise.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Moreno peered into that uncanny valley face, the eyes that saw nothing. She saw them with cameras, not the hologram's eyes. She blinked. "What is it, Red?" The admiral asked gently.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The hologram took a step back. Proctor's jaw hit the floor. She hadn't seen </span>
  <em>
    <span>that </span>
  </em>
  <span>before.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Red One," Moreno said, in the manner of a parent, or perhaps a family friend, using a child's full name.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Admiral, I have full autonomy--"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Moreno pointed at her, "Screw autonomy, we're the only flag officers left. You're a flag officer. You need to act like it. I notice you haven't said anything about the capacity of those freighters."</span>
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>
  <span>~</span>
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>...A flag officer?</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>
  <span>~</span>
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Red shook her head. "No, I did not."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"With the people, we have left, would it be logistically feasible, with no outside variables, to evacuate this place?" Moreno kept her hand up, briefly making a gesture of wiping the slate clean before returning to the single pointing finger.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Technically yes."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Would it be logistically feasible to keep them separate from our people?" Moreno spoke firmly with a tone the younger officers wouldn’t dare have used with Red. Mrowka felt a small smile appear on her face and noted that the same young officers seemed surprised not just with the tone, but that it was Moreno doing it at all.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Technically yes."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Red? If I may?” Proctor asked. She stepped forward with a glance at the time-lost officers. “The Red Hand lost a huge amount of personnel recently. Wouldn't...the Blue Flame appreciate some material support?"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Good point, Ensign. Pirates are always looking for more logistics people than cannon fodder no matter what the age,” Mrowka said with a nod, “Cannon fodder is easy, but competent techs and docs aren’t as easy to find.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yes ma’am, that’s exactly what I was thinking. Also, if I may, Red told us about the Principality fleet your-- our people were going to link up with,” Proctor scratched her head, “They probably won’t want to go home empty-handed. I’m sure they’ll take a few defectors.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Moreno glanced back at her, and smiled a little, “Excellent suggestion, Ensign.” Grace’s head twitched back and there was an odd look in her eyes. The admiral furrowed her brow, but said nothing, “Red?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The AI’s holographic appearance flickered for a moment. “Admiral, I do not wish to put human lives in danger. 2,000-year-old ships will only get so far. Our priority--”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Moreno held up a hand, “One more consideration, Red. Yes, our priority is getting people to safety, but we need to have long-term plans.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Admiral?” Mrowka asked.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Moreno looked at her, and dropped four fingers, holding up her index finger. She kept speaking, “Red, as we’ve been saying, your ships give us additional breathing room. We won’t have to be bulkhead-to-bulkhead anymore.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“That is correct,” Red said.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Helping people is one thing, but now we can afford another luxury.” Moreno grimaced and looked at the ensigns. “Before the Compact fleet showed up, some Shade Flotilla personnel requested asylum.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Red raised an eyebrow, “I presume this was not a formal request for asylum?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The corner of Moreno’s mouth quirked up, “More like pleading and offering us whatever money they had. They didn’t care who we were, they just wanted to leave. Hell, I think a bunch of them made friends with our people. The point is we couldn’t take them, and we can take them now. You may not trust Unbound, but most of these people are non-combatants. Most of them are dockworkers, doctors, engineers...” She eyed Red, “We’ve got a stockpile of Compact weapons and equipment we can’t make heads or tails of. There’s only so much we borrowed from your space station, and we can’t make more of it. We can’t fight a war with minimal equipment driven in first gear, we need sustainable infrastructure, and these people understand the modern stuff.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“With all due respect Admiral, I have an infrastructure of my own, in advance of the Compact’s technology. We do not need their assistance.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Red’s ship-- uh…” Proctor paused, and scratched her head for a moment, “...yard? Shipyard! Red’s shipyards are impressive!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Moreno crossed her arms and looked at her boots.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Captain Mrowka looked around, “It took tens of thousands of the best engineers to build this ship. It took millions of engineers to build enough ships at a slightly higher rate than the bad guys could kill them. We had hundreds of worlds and dozens of shipyards, and we had to violate half the regs in the books to produce ships damn near twice a day. An AI is impressive, but there’s only so much you can do alone, I’m guessing.” She looked around, “No offense, Red, but based on what you’ve said, you don’t have that much. Nothing like what we used to have in terms of quantity at least.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“That is correct. I am attempting to rectify this matter.” Red looked away for a moment, “Admiral, I built my war machine with crew accommodations, but primarily automation. Your-- our soldiers and spacers will not be of use at first. They will be needed to set up the initial colony, and we will need to limit human engagement in combat to minimize casualties. Fleet personnel will be of much more initial use in expanding our operations than in combat. As advanced as my drones can be, they are no replacement for a self-aware being.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“And that makes sense,” Mrowka nodded, “So wouldn’t it make more sense for us to take everybody we can get? They’re Unbound, but they’ve got engineers who know modern technology better than we do.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Moreno looked at Mrowka. The captain nodded back, and continued, “Red, I’m no fan of Compact species either, but I used to be an engineer. It doesn’t matter how good our gear is if we can’t make enough of it to make a difference.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Red fixed her gaze on the admiral, “There are many ethical problems at work here, Admiral.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Moreno nodded, then grimaced. They weren’t getting anywhere. “Let’s not get ahead of ourselves. We’ve got too much to do, and we need to talk to the president. Ultimately, at least, in this case, he’s the immigration authority. Right now, we need to get out of here.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She looked Red right back in her holographic eyes. They were wasting time talking when they had to get moving. “Red, we need to focus. The Shades are protecting our ships </span>
  <em>
    <span>right now</span>
  </em>
  <span> along with their own ships. They could be fighting and dying to save their neighbors and our families. Do you know if there are more task forces out there? We need every ship we can get to help, and if we turn up without their buddies, Nanhar and Kaitet’s people might fire on us. So why don’t we take everyone now, and figure the rest out later when we can speak with the president?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The two beings looked each other in the eyes for a long moment.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Allyria and Grace looked at each other. No one, not even the Red Queen spoke to Red like this. And not even Echo could get Red to take a single step back.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“We’re flag officers, Red. Our job is more than just taking lives,” Moreno said softly.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Red stared for a moment more. “Agreed. We shall rendezvous with the fleet.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The atmosphere on the command deck thinned. There was a collective sigh of relief.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Moreno turned back to Mrowka, “Captain, return to your ship. I need you to help coordinate rescue operations with the Shades. I’m keeping my flag here, so Red One and I can touch base.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Ma’am?” Mrowka asked.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’ll be alright,” Moreno said with a nod, then glanced at the ensigns with a small grin, “I’ve got the latest academy graduates guarding me.” She looked back at Mrowka, “Leave the Marines if you need to. I’m sure there’s a rec room or something around here. Right, Red?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I can accommodate Marines, yes,” Red said with a nod.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Mrowka looked at the hologram skeptically. “Ma’am--”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Moreno walked forward and put a hand on the captain’s shoulder, “It’ll be okay, Mrowka. I’ll be fine. Now get back to your ship.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Mrowka nodded and walked slowly toward the double doors. She lingered in the door frame for a moment, looking straight ahead. She did not turn around. With an exhale, Mrowka walked to the elevator.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Admiral, may I speak with you in private?"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Moreno nodded. Out of habit, she moved to the corridor. “Ah, is the briefing room…?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Be my guest, Admiral.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Moreno nodded to the ensigns, and out toward the briefing room.</span>
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Allyria turned to Grace, “Well...that was cinematic.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Grace nodded, her eyes wide, “I don’t even…”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I know!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I have so many questions!” Grace cried, gripping her head.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Me too!” Allyria cried, shaking her fists in front of her.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Can you even think of one to ask?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Not even close!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Moreno looked around the briefing room. She noted the room was a bit more luxurious than her own, even after so many years. “God, did they make everything fancy here?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Admiral...what did you mean when you referred to me as a 'flag officer'?" Red asked. Her hologram shimmered as she entered the room.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Moreno blinked, "I mean…" She scratched the back of her head, "Well, we're all that's left, right?"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"I was not legally considered personnel before the Fall of Earth," Red said bluntly.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Moreno's eyes flashed with an odd emotion. "You're the acting captain of </span>
  <em>
    <span>Nemesis</span>
  </em>
  <span>, aren't you? Legally speaking, I mean."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Red's holographic visage shimmered.</span>
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>
  <span>~</span>
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“I think... I think I’ll just rest for a little while. Wake me up when we get home, will you? I just... I just need to close my eyes for a little bit. Get us home.”  </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“I will, captain. I promise.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>
  <span>~</span>
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yes, Admiral. Technically. She specifically ordered me to return to base, there was no ceremony of course.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I mean since you were the last member of the crew, that makes you acting captain like any spacer.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“And with the extermination of everyone in the Navy besides myself, I was perhaps the de-facto fleet admiral. And I was president simply by default. With her last orders, Yasmine made me an officer.” Red raised an eyebrow, “...What does that make me now, Admiral?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Moreno studied her, then sighed. "Look, I may be the senior officer here legally, but by seniority, you are. You've been fighting this war for so much longer, and you can't have the equivalent of Admiral Nimitz telling you how to fight this war. I think…" she gave a sidelong glance at the others, "Hell. I was going to have to bump myself up to fleet admiral. I'll just come out and say it. I'm going to recommend you be commissioned as another fleet admiral by the president. This way we have a lateral relationship and we can determine who's in charge. It's the least you deserve, Red, after--" Suddenly the admiral's mighty presence developed a crack. She felt her nose twitching, and idly put a hand to it.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Moreno glanced around and found a chair to sink into. There was only a handful, one of which looked oversized. Red must’ve made them for her new crew.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Admiral?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Moreno put her hands together. She looked up at Red with a shimmer in her eyes, “You…”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Before she could say anything else, she could’ve sworn Red flinched.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You...you know how good it is to see you. Because you’re glad to see us. Am I right?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Red nodded. “Admiral, I must tell you that as glad as we are to see one another, there is some concern I have about myself.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“And that is?” Moreno asked. She gestured to one of the seats, “Don’t hover there, sit down.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Red’s hologram took a seat, “Some consider me insane. And I do not know if they are wrong.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Maybe if you know you’re nuts, maybe you aren’t,” Moreno said, “It doesn’t matter what the Compact says. We’ve got nothing to prove to them, and those bastards--”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“My designers, the engineers and scientists who built me, would be shocked by what I’ve done.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Red--”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Suddenly the hologram flickered with a flash of deep crimson, “Admiral, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. It was my fault. It’s my fault that you’re out here, it’s my fault Earth was found, because of my weakness, because of my failure.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Moreno looked at Red. She heard the numbness, the hatred, and the mourning. That terrible mourning she knew all too well.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She reached out, then withdrew, “Red…”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’m sorry Admiral. I tried, I tried to save everyone I could. But I was too late. I was always--”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Red.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Red stopped. She looked up. “Yes, Admiral?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“It wasn’t your fault.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“How can you say that?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Because...because even if the scale is different, I’ve been in the same place,” Moreno said softly. “My captain died on the original </span>
  <em>
    <span>Vanguard</span>
  </em>
  <span> while I ran away. And I didn’t forgive myself for years.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I recall the engagement. There were no charges.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Not from the admiralty,” Moreno said knowingly, “Captain Mrowka lost a ship on Good Friday. She was charged by the admiralty. But for all of us, we have one thing in common. It wasn’t our fault. It wasn’t the admiralty’s fault. It was the fault of the evil bastards who shoot kids for shits and giggles.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Red looked away.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I know it’s not easy, but it wasn’t your fault. It didn’t matter what would happen, they would’ve destroyed Earth no matter what. The only way you could’ve saved Earth would be to give in and not kill a Triarch,” Moreno said.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She faltered as a dreadful thought entered her mind. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Would that have been better?</span>
  </em>
  <span> Slavery was a reversible condition, extinction was not.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Some might say integrity mattered more but was resistance worth risking genocide?</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Suddenly the words of that obnoxious Compact officer entered her mind. </span>
  <em>
    <span>"You forced our hand...You provoked us. You caused this. You're ultimately to blame."</span>
  </em>
  <span> It was accompanied by the rough translation in the abuser’s handbook. </span>
  <em>
    <span>‘If you hadn’t provoked me I wouldn’t have hit you’.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Admiral…” Red started, snapping her out of her thoughts.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Moreno fixed Red with a steady gaze, “Red, it wasn’t your fault. They pulled the trigger. The choice between slavery and genocide is no choice at all. It's not a case where we got into a fight because we couldn't agree on which god to pray to or because our honor was besmirched. Whatever they may say, the Compact believes in enslaving other races, and if those races do not joyfully accept them as their saviors then they wipe them out entirely. That’s a very different thing than fighting a school bully because they made a tasteless joke. It’s easy to say all fighting is wrong, or that you should surrender peacefully when you’re not the one on the way to the guillotine.”</span>
</p>
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